Blind Faith
by Gwynne G
Summary: Arthur Campbell agrees to let Ben Mercer take Auggie prisoner, in a move he believes will show which one of them is no longer loyal to the Agency. When Auggie disappears and no one can, or will, explain, Annie sets out to find him.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_The usual disclaimer here. I don't own and have no association with "Covert Affairs." I do think it's the best show to come along in many years, and I sincerely admire the great writers and brilliant actors who bring it so vividly to life_

_This is the second in a trilogy of "Covert Affairs stories. It follows "Blind Ambition." I do recommend you read that one first, if possible._

_This insisted on growing to such a length that I thought it best to post it in two parts – making this in effect a quartet. Sorry, but some stories just seem to have a lot to say. The second half of this post is well underway, and I hope to have it up for those kind enough to read very soon._

**Summary:** Arthur Campbell agrees to let Ben Mercer take Auggie prisoner, in a move he believes will show which one of them is no longer loyal to the Agency. When Auggie disappears and no one can, or will, explain, Annie sets out to find him, aided by Auggie's preplanning and some of his old and new friends. Considerable angst in this one.

Blind Faith – Part I

Chapter 1

_To make the transition smoother, I have included a bit from the end of "Blind Ambition."_

Half a block from Priceless Pearls, Auggie heard two sets of heavy footsteps closing on him. Ice ran up his spine, and the hair on the back of his neck stood erect. A hand clamped onto his left arm. "Allow me to assist you, mien Herr." The speaker had a heavy German accent. Auggie spun and brought a knee up into his attacker's balls and his fist into his face at the same instant. The man fell back with an agonized grunt. Auggie had hoped to break the man's nose, but felt his knuckles contact an eye instead.

The attacker on his right closed a massive hand around Auggie's upper arm. Auggie thrust his cane between the spread legs behind him and jerked up hard. The resulting screech told him the man's height. He released the cane and brought his shoulder up sharply under a solid chin. Momentarily free, he was about to sprint down the familiar street shouting for assistance, when a voice he knew said, "Dammit, you fools! I told you he was dangerous." A powerful electric shock jolted him from behind. He had just time enough to think 'taser', before darkness descended.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_The new material begins here._

In Priceless Pearls, Evelyn had just closed the paperwork on Mr. Anderson's purchase when she heard tires squeal in protest and looked up. A dark van with deeply tinted windows roared past the shop almost sideswiping a small Toyota sedan parked there. It was unusual on this generally quiet street, so she stepped to the door and looked out. The van was disappearing down the road in a cloud of exhaust – too far away to get the license number.

She looked back in the direction it had come. A Priceless Pearls shop bag sat abandoned on the sidewalk. Curious, she walked past the two intervening shops, picked it up and glanced inside. She was shocked to see the package containing the pearl necklace Mr. Anderson had, moments before, purchased for his fiancée, Miss Walker. She looked around hoping to catch some sight of him; perhaps he needed help. In the gutter she saw his white cane. It was splintered almost in half.

Evelyn ran back to the shop and dialed 911. When she reached a police sergeant, she tried to report a kidnapping. Unfortunately, it turned out she had very little information to offer. A black van had sped past her shop. She was unsure of its make and did not have the license number. She claimed her customer, a Mr. August Anderson, had disappeared off the street, dropping a valuable package at the same time. There was no immediate record of Mr. Anderson. He had no driver's license.

"Of course, he doesn't," she was becoming irritated. "He's blind," she told the sergeant.

"What's his address then?" the man asked.

The only address Evelyn had for Auggie turned out to be a box number at a private mail forwarding company. The police investigator would find that it required a subpoena to get them to turn over the forwarding address, and no judge would sign one on the slight information available. The only phone number Evelyn could give him turned out to be an untraceable burner that went unanswered.

Some days later a harried detective did look into her complaint briefly. Anderson had never been arrested or fingerprinted. He did have a military record, but it was sealed. What little he could find out led him to suspect the man was an undercover F.B.I agent, a C.I.A. covert op or perhaps with the super secret N.S.A. In any case, it generally paid the Washington, D.C. police to stay out of the business of security agencies – they took care of their own. He filed the complaint and forgot it.

Evelyn took the additional step of writing a letter to the address she had. She detailed the circumstances and requested that someone pick up the package she was holding for Mr. Anderson. She hoped Miss Walker would be the one to see the letter.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Annie was on the West Coast involved in a multiagency attempt to stop parts for an atomic weapon being smuggled through the Port of Seattle. A tip from an asset inside Iran had warned of a concerted effort by Al Qaeda to use several foreign students attending American universities to bring in the components separately. Annie was part of the team assigned to follow the girlfriend of one of the students with the hope they could arrest him on his arrival.

One of the few arguments Auggie and Annie had endured in their time together was over his need to be her handler 24/7 when she was on a mission. He would agree in theory that he needed sleep and hot food as much as any other human being and that it was only logical to let someone else take over for him while he obtained such sustenance, but when it came to Annie's missions, he repeatedly resisted relief.

It came to a head on a mission deep into the Balkans. Annie was sent into Albania to bring out an expert in chemical warfare who wanted to defect. Hannah Astarane was in her early 40's and constantly under suspicion because of her Jewish heritage. Annie and the scientist spent two days making their way through the Pindus Mountains into Greece. Sometimes they were pursued by the authorities and sometimes assisted by local partisans.

Joan was standing over Auggie when Annie and Hannah stumbled into the border crossing where the Greek Agent-in-Place awaited them.

"She's safe now. There's a car waiting and a security guard to make sure you get in it," Joan told Auggie. "Go home!"

Auggie turned a face drawn with weariness and pain toward her. "You'll make sure they get on the plane?"

"I will. I'll send her directly home. We can de-brief later. Go, go now."

Auggie slowly gathered his cane and shoulder bag and went with the guard to the car.

The driver, whose name was Bobby, did his best, but a little way from Langley, there was a massive car crash on the freeway ahead of them.

"Sir," he said, "there's a bad accident ahead of us. A big tractor trailer jackknifed and a couple cars ran into him, then more cars hit the first bunch. There are cars stacked up for blocks. We're hemmed in tight. Looks like we're stuck for a while. I'm sorry." He had driven for Auggie before and knew his passenger wanted descriptions of what was going on around him.

"Not your fault, Bob," Auggie told him. "We'll wait. Just please, no radio." The thick mid-day heat, exhaust fumes and a cacophony of honking horns and screaming sirens had trip hammers firing in Auggie's head within minutes.

They waited. Auggie spread his hand across his eyes and bowed his head, resting it in his palm. Bobby kept the air conditioning on high to try and provide some relief until a police officer came by and ordered everyone to turn off their engines. It was quieter after that, if hotter.

Almost two hours later, traffic finally began to clear. Bobby took a look at his pale and slumping passenger and said, "Mr. Anderson, let me take you to the hospital."

"No, Bobby. Home, just take me home. It'll be alright."

Once out of the jam, Bobby drove as smoothly and as steadily as he could. He got Auggie home and insisted on seeing him to his door.

The slight jar of his heavy door sliding shut ran through Auggie's head like a knife. He dropped his cane and stumbled toward the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Annie came straight from the airport to the apartment they shared. When she opened the door it was to darkness, silence and cold. "Auggie?" she called. Her hand automatically flipped on the lights. It was unlike Auggie to forget them.

"Auggie?" Her call was louder, but there was no answer, then she saw Auggie's cane on the floor at her feet. She dropped her things in a pile and went looking for him.

When she turned on the bathroom light, the sudden flood of illumination revealed Auggie curled into a ball on the cold tile floor. Annie stood frozen, torn by fear and anguish. His still form consumed her vision. Suddenly he gasped and shivered violently. Released, Annie took in the rest of the scene. He had vomited several times, and the bottles that held his migraine medications were scattered around him. With a few quick strides, she snatched a warm quilt and pillow from their bed and dropped down beside him.

"Auggie, sweetheart, it's Annie. I'm here." She spread the quilt over him and lifted his head enough to slide the pillow between it and the hard tiles of the floor. "Auggie, can you hear me?" She kept her voice soft, while her hands shook and she fought down the need to scream.

"What have you taken, love? I have to know so I can help you."

He had a combination of triptans, anti-nausea medication and a corticosteroid that boosted their effectiveness. He also had a strong opiate, but tried to avoid it if he could. She didn't dare give him anything until she knew what he had taken. She could only pray that he knew and could tell her.

Auggie flung out a hand, further scattering the pill containers.

"Couldn't remember." She had to bend close to hear him. "Size, shape, all mixed up – hurt so much. 'Fraid …"

"Do you mean you haven't taken anything, Auggie? "Nothing at all?"

"Couldn't … forgot."

Apparently, the headache had been so bad it had muddled his usual perfect memory for the size and shapes of the bottles his meds were stored in, and he had been reluctant to take anything as a result.

"Alright, hold on a minute longer." Annie collected the scattered bottles and shook out the proper dosage of each into her hand. She filled a glass with cold water from the tap and knelt beside him again.

"Okay, Auggie, I'm going to lift you enough that you can swallow. We'll take it slow." She braced against the cabinet around the base of the sink and eased Auggie semi-erect until he rested against her chest. His head was cushioned between her breasts; she waited patiently for his breathing to steady.

"Open up," she told him. "I've got your meds right here." He obligingly opened his mouth, and she tipped the pills in. She lifted his chin slightly and brought the water to his lips. He drank and swallowed. Now if they would only stay down!

She pulled the quilt close around them both and held him while the remedies began their work.

Tired and jet lagged, she was half asleep herself when he said with more clarity, "Annie?"

"I'm right here with you. How do you feel?"

"Like a pile of week old wet garbage, but more coherent. Should I say 'Thank you' or 'I'm sorry' first?"

"You don't have to say either one, right now. I just want to get you into bed. Do you think you could manage a warm shower first? You still feel so cold."

"Come in with me?"

That request usually led to all sorts of delightful play, but she suspected that this time he simply needed her help. "Sure, hon. You stay quiet while I get things ready." She slipped from behind him and let his head rest on the pillow.

She put clean towels on the warming rack, brought sweat pants and a shirt for him and a slip-over made of absorbent toweling for herself. She disrobed, turned on the hot water and steadied Auggie as he got shakily to his feet. She quickly undid buttons and zippers and got him out of his soiled clothes.

"Step up and over, sweetheart," she reminded him as she guided him into the shower he had entered a thousand times before. She couldn't be sure how well his mind functioned at the moment. She put his hand on the safety bar and quickly worked up lather on a scrubbing puff.

When they were both clean and rinsed, she wrapped him in warm towels and dried herself off. Comfortable in her warm gown, she got Auggie dressed and gently led him to the bed. He sank down with a sigh. She lifted his long legs in and pulled up the covers before crawling in on the far side.

Auggie slid his hand across the sheet, found her hand and gave it a little tug. "Close to me, want you close to me."

She slid over beside him. "Close to you, Auggie; always close to you."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Annie awoke to bright, clear, colorless, morning sunlight streaming into their bedroom window. She lifted herself on one elbow and looked across at Auggie. The sun highlighted the strength and kindness in his face and brought gleams of chestnut from the tangled mass of dark hair on his forehead. A moment of sadness tightened her throat when she thought that the man she loved would never again see the beauty of the sun. She sighed softly.

"I can feel it on my skin, you know," Auggie said without stirring. "It's like being caressed by weightless fingers – warm and healing. Don't be sad."

"It's not fair that you can read my mind," Annie complained. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Glad that you're home safe. Grateful for all you did. Embarrassed that I let it get away from me."

"Auggie, you terrify me. How can I concentrate on my mission when I'm constantly worried that the man I love is in agony? You can't function right when you're in so much pain, and you know it. You could fall or overdose – be permanently injured. I don't want to fight with you when you're still shaky, but we have to resolve this."

Auggie groaned. "I know, Annie, and you're right, but you terrify me, too. What am I supposed to do when the woman I love is being chased by sadistic Communist police through rugged mountain terrain? You could be dead in an eyeblink. How can I just hand the headphones to somebody else and come home and sleep?" Deep creases around his eyes and mouth spoke of his distress.

He pulled her close against him and kissed the antique gold of her silken hair, warm from the morning sun. She had washed off all her perfume and cosmetics and smelled simply of Annie. His favorite scent in the entire world. He teased her with his mouth. His kisses wandered across her hairline and down to just brush her closed eyelids. He nipped the end of her petite nose, sucked on an earlobe and played along her strong jaw line until finally he found his way to her mouth.

She was as hungry for him as he was for her. Their lovemaking was long, and tender and good. When they had joined in the glorious burst of sensation that was climax and completion, they kissed one last time, deep and lazy with satisfaction. Auggie murmured, "I love you, Annie Walker," and almost instantly fell back asleep.

Annie sat up and smiled. '_Men_,' she thought. Well, let him sleep; he certainly needed it. She would get up, clean up the mess from last night and make some food. She knew he would wake up starved. They would have to thrash this out. He couldn't go on like this, and neither could she.

Some hours later Auggie was up, neatly dressed and well fed. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, one finger inside the cup to test the liquid's level as always. He carried it into the living room and sat in the deep armchair covered in soft-tanned, buttery leather that he favored. He patted the footstool and spoke.

"Come on, Annie, sit down and spit it out. I can feel you simmering inside. I'm strong enough to take it now." His smile tempered the seriousness of his words.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Annie crossed from the kitchen where she had been putting dishes in the washer, and sat down on the footstool. She folded her hands in her lap rather than place one on his knee as she normally did.

"Wow! You really are mad, aren't you? It hurts when you don't want to touch me."

Annie faced him squarely and placed a hand firmly on each of his knees. She leaned in close.

"Auggie, you mean everything to me, and when I first saw you last night, I thought you were dead! I can't even describe the feelings that slammed through me, but I don't ever want to feel that way again."

"Oh, God, Annie, I'm sorry; I'm so sorry." His voice broke for a moment. "I would have gotten home, taken my meds and been OK by the time you arrived, if Bobby hadn't gotten stuck in an unbelievable traffic jam for over two hours. It was migraine hell. You're right. By the time I got here, I couldn't function. It would have been a relief to die."

The thought of what he was willing to endure for her tore at her emotions. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her love and protect him from every pain or sorrow. But she couldn't do that. Auggie wouldn't want it, even if she could. They had to work this out.

"Hiding how bad these headaches have gotten is not a solution, Auggie. I've given it a lot of thought, and I want to try and make you think about it from another direction, okay?

"I never want to hurt you, Annie, I'll listen to anything. Go ahead."

"You were a covert field agent from the time you were very young, weren't you?"

"From the time I was a sophomore in college."

"And you were still active with the CIA while you were in Special Forces?"

"That's not something to spread around, but yes. My unit ran a special op from time to time."

"Did you like being a spy, running covert operations, being a repository for secrets. Did it mean something to you?

"Wow." Auggie lowered his head into his hands and rubbed his temples. Annie knew they were still tender, and she was putting a lot of pressure on him.

"_Like_, doesn't seem to be the right word somehow. Did I want to do it? Yes. Did I feel like it was an important job? Yes. Would I have given it up deliberately? Hell no! Where are you going with this?"

"Yet, when you ran into that explosion and lost your sight, you were forced to give it up. What you do now is interesting; it's important. If our bosses were honest, they'd have to say you're a key figure in our whole operation, but it's not the same as field work, is it?"

He hesitated so long, his face was so etched with pain that she wanted to drop it all and hug him, but she kept on.

"Is it, Auggie?"

"No, dammit, no; it's not!" He spat it out. "But it's all I can do, and I'm good at it. I am!"

"Yes, darling, you are." Her voice was warm, caressing. "There's nobody better. Even Joan admits that." It was a tragedy that he couldn't see the sweet, smiling face she turned to him.

She caught his tightly fisted hand and pulled it to her, pried open the fingers and kissed his palm.

"I just want you to understand that I love what I do, too. I've only been a field agent for about three years, and I still get a thrill every time they read me in on a new operation. I may not be an Auggie, but I've been pretty successful, and, I admit, pretty lucky. Your help has been a big part of it."

She slid closer and ran her hand up his arm, stroked the inside of his wrist with the tips of her nails.

"But, Auggie, I can't go on if it's going to destroy your health. I care too much about you to do that. I have two choices. I can come in out of the field, go into translation and analysis, and come home at five o'clock every night. I had thought I would do that a few years along. But I don't want to do it now. My other choice is to break it off between us completely, move out and refuse you as my handler!"

Auggie's eyes squeezed tight-shut, and his mouth half-opened in a silent, throttled scream. His expression was so completely stricken that all her resolve vanished between one heartbeat and the next. She threw herself into his lap and hugged him close.

"No, Auggie! Lie, lie lie! I can't leave you; I won't leave you! You're the finest man in this whole crazy world and the only one I want." She could feel his heart race against her cheek. "I love you, but I love my work too. You had a terrible choice forced on you far too soon; don't force this one on me. Don't make me leave the field now."

He drew a long and shaky breath. "God, woman, you scared me. Next time just ram a sword through my chest and be done with it."

He wrapped her in his arms and just held her close for a long space of time. Eventually he said, "You made your point, Annie. I do see it differently now, and I would never force you to quit something you love, but you have to help me figure out what to do? It drives me crazy to be out of contact when you're on a mission."

Annie settled more comfortably in his arms. The worst was over now, and she thought she had an answer to his question. "Auggie," she asked, "what do you do when I'm asleep on a mission? I do sleep you know. It may not be the Ritz, but they rent me a nice, clean hotel room, and the hotel has a restaurant with food. Or, I go to a safe house with a bed and food in the cupboard. Sometimes I persuade some kindly native to take me in to rest and eat, and, worst come to worst, I can always roll up in a sleeping bag under a tree with an apple and a hunk of cheese. What do you do?"

Auggie seemed dumbstruck for a minute. "Well, er, I … I …"

"No, don't bother answering, I know. You work your contacts, search the internet and crack into data bases that could get you killed if you were ever caught. You do anything you think will help the mission. Stop it, Auggie; you sleep when I sleep! The Agency has research experts and other hackers. Task them to find the information you want.

"You don't have to come back to the apartment, if that's too far out of contact for you. Go downstairs; get a bowl of hot soup in the cafeteria. Take a shower and crawl into one of the crew bunks. Even 4 or 5 hours sleep is better than none. If something happens, your relief will call down, and you can be back on the line in 3 minutes. Now, doesn't that make better sense than hanging on until you're sick with fatigue and pain?"

It took more time and persuasion, but eventually he agreed to give it a try. Joan eased the transition by letting him choose who his relief would be. Annie survived her first couple of mission under this new system undamaged and undaunted. She returned home happily to Auggie's arms. He still didn't like it, but he had accepted its necessity; he even began to relax a little with it.

The current mission afforded Annie little time for personal contacts with Auggie. The girl they were following seemed to function on practically no sleep. Merry Joy partied with crowds of fellow students in local clubs until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning; fell asleep in her own or someone else's apartment for a few hours and then was up and off to early classes. Afternoons she shopped. With the backing of her wealthy family, Merry was a world class shopper. Annie enjoyed shadowing her into exclusive boutiques with their palette of richly colored fabrics and exotic scents, but she couldn't turn up in the same places too often without being made.

Annie had last spoken with Auggie in the very early hours of Saturday morning. . He had been on with her for the last 16 hours and had agreed for the first time to take the full weekend off. The cruise ship their suspected student terrorist was on was not expected to dock until Monday afternoon.

Annie had urged Auggie to sleep late and then order food he could reheat from their favorite, nearby deli. Equipment problems had plagued Tech Ops recently, and she could tell from Auggie's voice that he was tired. She didn't want sleeplessness and stress to bring on another of his migraines, so she told him she wouldn't call him again until Sunday morning. She hoped that Miss Merry Joy, their forever flitting subject, would at least sleep in late that day.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_The few lines of verse quoted below are from Rudyard Kipling's long poem "The Ballad of East and West."_

Once his captors had a stunned Auggie inside the van, they were quick to tie his hands and feet securely. They tied his hands behind him and ran a line between the stout plastic slip ties that secured both his wrists and ankles. They pulled it tight so that it kept his back bowed sharply and made it almost impossible to struggle or move.

Consciousness returned fairly quickly to Auggie, but he was too experienced in the cat and mouse game that had so suddenly swept him up to let his captors realize that until he was ready. He kept his body relaxed and let it slide on what felt like the carpeting between the front and back seat of the moving vehicle that carried him. He could feel it turn, stop and then move on, so they were driving through traffic, but he had no way of knowing where they were going. He tested his bonds with tiny movements, and was forced to accept that they had him secured for the moment.

One of his attackers, the one with the heavy German accent, complained that the eye Auggie had stuck his fist into was swelling shut.

"It hurts," he said. "How can a blind man know to strike like he did? He injured James as well, nein?"

"Damned right he did," said a somewhat high pitched voice that Auggie assumed belonged to James. "If the boss hadn't yanked me into the van, I'd been curled up in a ball on the sidewalk." He kicked Auggie lightly in the side. "Be a few days before I can enjoy the ladies again," he whined.

Auggie was pleased that he had done some damage, but it didn't help him at the moment. He concentrated on the vaguely familiar voice that replied.

"You two should learn to listen better. I told you he was ex-Special Forces and worked out regularly. Once he can get his hands on you, he's a deadly fighter. And you spoke, Lars; that told him your height and where to aim. James gave his location away when he grabbed his arm. He may be blind, but you have to realize that he's trained to work, and to fight, by feel and sound. He taught you both a lesson you need to remember."

The voice almost clicked in Auggie's mind. He had heard it only a few times. It seemed to hook up with the hollow sound and slightly musty smell of the big conference room at Langley. What had that meeting been about? Was it the after action report on that hostage situation in Mexico? Suddenly everything tumbled together. Of course it was … It had to be him! Who had he felt spying on them for so long? Who had a personal reason to want him out of the way? Ben Mercer, of course, Mercer.,

Ben Mercer had finally struck. It was the beginning of an action Auggie had both anticipated and dreaded for months now. In a way, he was almost glad to have things in play at last. He had done all he could to prepare Annie, and to give her the tools she might need if he disappeared. She would have the means to aid him if he needed it, and if he never returned –not what he planned, still, he of all people knew that life was unpredictable – she would be cared for and comfortable.

The van cruised for some time. There was apparently no hurry to reach wherever they were going. Auggie was feeling the strain of his bonds on his left shoulder. It was the one that was shattered when he landed on it after the explosion that blinded him. It had rehabbed well, but several surgeries left it vulnerable. Eventually they stopped and the doors opened. The sweep of cool, moist air that blew through the stuffy interior told Auggie that it was evening and probably already dark.

The line between his hands and feet was cut and then the one lashing his ankles together. He was jerked up and out of the van. The sudden straightening brought both pain and relief, but he had been mentally expecting it. An openhanded blow across his face snapped his head around. No way to prepare for those, but he was determined not to let them see alarm or pain at this point.

"Alright, Anderson," his captor said, "I know you're awake. No stun keeps you out for that long. Now, get up and walk"

"Ah, it's Ben Mercer, spy for sale, I presume. And who's paying you this time: Klaus and friends, some terrorist group, or yet another intelligence agency?"

Not easy getting erect with your hands tied behind you and no vision, but Auggie rolled up onto his knees, rested his weight on his left knee while he brought his right foot up under him and pushed up to his full six feet. From the CIA records he knew he topped Mercer by about two inches.

Auggie felt a sharp jab in his ribs. "This is a Walther PPK .32 you feel in your side. Shut up and do as I say, or I'll shoot you here and now. Walk!"

"Where?" Auggie inquired innocently. "Toward the Washington Monument or the Lincoln Memorial?" He had stalled long enough to sense they were in a large, open space paved in rough asphalt – probably a parking lot.

"Shit!" Mercer grabbed Auggie by the arm and dragged him sideways until they stopped suddenly. The sounds of a door being jimmied with a crowbar came next, and with another jab of the gun barrel, Auggie was propelled inside a building. He gritted his teeth. _'Free my hands and_ _I'll take that popgun away from you and cram it somewhere really painful_,' ran through his mind.

Auggie drew a deep breath and felt a thrill of alarm. The smell of recently hot electronics was heavy in the air. This was the computer super store where his group of young hackers met weekly in the loft area. He took a steadying breath; it was Saturday night. The store was closed and none of his kids would be here. He wasn't wrong that he and Annie had been frequently followed, but what could they want here?

Unable to resist bragging, Mercer was kind enough to explain. "Your own Agency gave you to me, Anderson. I have Arthur Campbell's permission to question you about your loyalties. You are suspected of selling secrets to the Russians with your old girlfriend Natasha acting as your agent. Easy for him to understand how being blinded in an action based on faulty intelligence turned you. And, your bank account is stuffed with money. He can't trust you anymore."

'_What kind of game is Arthur Campbell playing?' _Auggie wondered._ 'He can't believe in Mercer to this extent. There are protocols for questioning suspected turncoats, and this isn't one of them. I know Joan told Arthur what I found out about this bastard, and she knows where my money comes from. What in hell is going on?'_ Auggie's mind raced for any sort of explanation.

"You're here," Mercer continued, "because this is somewhere you might very well be expected to be. I've been around the spy business too long not to believe that our slick director has some way of tracking you. We'll find it before we leave here and plant it at your apartment. It will be days before anyone will believe you're gone. By then, I'll have some real classified information out of you, and I'll use it to burn you. If you don't go to jail, they'll disavow you and toss you out on your ear. Think Annie will still want her cripple of a lover then?"

'_Ah, that explains a lot,'_ Auggie thought._ 'Arthur's playing us against each other to see who comes out looking the cleanest, but Mercer's got other goals in mind. It doesn't look like I'm going to wind up with a bullet between the eyes; he wants to see me left without a job, or a home, or a purpose. Most of all, he wants Annie.'_

Auggie was forced into an elevator, and they ascended to the loft storage and club area. The space was very familiar to Auggie, and he was seriously tempted to make a break for it, even with his hands tied. But there were three of them, and his chances of getting out of the building and finding help were small. He didn't have long to wait to find out what came next.

He was grabbed by both arms and pushed down into a chair. A quick search relieved him of his wallet, keys and cell phone. He jumped when something cold was sprayed onto his shoulder and a needle plunged in. "You're going to sleep for a while," he was told. "We've got a lot to do, and it's not worth it just to watch you struggle."

Auggie fought it. Through several surgeries and killer migraines he had built up a significant tolerance for narcotics, but this dose was massive. He steadied his mind and began a silent recital of a poem he knew well, Kipling's "Ballad of East and West." It was one he had memorized as a boy and had recited often to entertain his men around a night camp fire. Critics often made fun of it, but it had a strength and rhythm that was hard to resist.

"_Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,_

_Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;_

_But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,_

_When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth!_

_Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border-side,_

_And he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the Colonel's pride._

_He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day,_

_And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away._

_Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led a troop of the Guides:_

_"Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides?"_

He made it through many of the resounding stanzas, but by the time he reached…

"_Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "Do good to bird and beast,_

_But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast._

_If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away,_

_Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay."_

his brain was fuzzy and he was becoming confused as to what came next. He wasn't going to make it.

"_The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, - howl, dog, and call them up!"_

floated through his mind, and then he was going away into a mental darkness that matched that eternally before his eyes.

Once a few vicious pokes and prods convinced Mercer that Auggie was deeply unconscious, he had his men strip him completely. His clothes were tossed into a corner in a crumpled heap. Lars had uncased the radio frequency scanner and, beginning at the neck, ran it slowly over Auggie's body. It emitted a harsh screech just below his right shoulder. Mercer pressed the area hard with his fingers and detected the tiny RFID transponder that had been implanted with his flu shot at Arthur Campbell's orders.

Mercer pulled a multi-tool folding knife from his pocket and used the blade to open the skin over the bug. With the tweezers, he dug into the muscle and carefully extracted the bug without damaging it. He placed it onto a square of cotton, wrapped it gently and dropped it into a plastic bag. A quick spray with a clotting agent and an adhesive bandage finished the job.

He handed the bag with the bug to the big man called James along with Auggie's key ring. Time had eased the throbbing in his genitals that Auggie had inflicted, and he was able to move and speak normally.

"Take these," Mercer told him, "and make your way as inconspicuously as possible to his apartment. Drive within the law at all times, and wait until the doorman at Anderson's place steps away before you go in. There's no rush. Once you get to his apartment go in, unwrap the bug and tape it somewhere out of sight inside his bedroom. We want it to register as being in the apartment. Understand?"

James nodded, took the bug and placed it gently into his inside coat pocket. Mercer held out the car keys; James took them and left on his errand.

Lars and Mercer wrestled Auggie's limp body into sweat pants and a shirt, lifted him into a wheelchair and tied him securely to the sturdy steel frame.

Dawn found them wheeling an apparently very ill patient, who was covered in heavy blankets and had a cap pulled down low over his face, out to a private flight that was headed south and east.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sunday morning about 7:00 a.m., Annie dialed Auggie's private digits – the number that only Annie, Auggie's family and Joan had. She was hungry to hear his voice – the warm baritone that had for so long given her strong support and solid advice along with reassurance and comfort when she needed it. Now it meant even more to her when he held her close and spoke softly of his love and desire. The phone rang and rang before going to voice mail.

"I'll bet you're still lolling in bed aren't you, Anderson," she said into the machine. "Beats getting up before the sun and splashing off into a wet Seattle morning after this dilettante girlfriend. Enjoy your rest, sweetheart; wish I were with you. Call you later."

Reluctantly she broke the connection. A tiny thread of worry tugged at the back of her mind. Auggie rarely missed her calls; suppose he was sick or in trouble …? She pushed the thought away. She had to take over surveillance of Miss Joy in less than an hour, and she still needed to put on an extra sweater under her coat and get some breakfast.

Annie tried again just as she was finished her breakfast coffee. Still no answer. "Get up lazy bones," she told the recorder, "and talk to me before I have to go watch her traipse through boutiques all day. If you aren't careful, I'm going to use that credit card you gave me to buy something really extravagant – like those cashmere and silk evening slacks I saw. They have a matching vest that's all scrolled with the most beautiful embroidery. Then you'll be sorry! They cost enough to buy a small country." Even as she said it, she knew Auggie wouldn't care. If he thought she truly wanted something, he would do everything possible to get it for her. It made her careful about what she wished for.

Annie had no sooner taken over the watch than Merry Joy was out and going strong. First came a leisurely champagne breakfast with friends at a high end restaurant, and then they were off to the shops.

Why were the Joys so into cutsie names, Annie thought for about the hundredth time? Their son was actually named Jolly Joy. If they had another, would it be Jumpfor she wondered?

Annie took out her phone to call Auggie again while she killed time outside a boutique by pretending to window shop, but she didn't get to complete the call. Their subject had been inside the store for some twenty minutes and looked about ready to try on several garments. Suddenly, the girl clapped her phone to her ear, listened intently, dropped her armload of clothes on a chair and rushed from the store.

Their subject's Cadillac was parked in a nearby lot, but she threw up her arm to hail a passing taxi. Annie's surveillance partner was an older agent called Trenton. Fortunately he was alert and pulled their car away from the curb half a block below the shop just as their subject slammed the cab door and sped away. Annie jumped in as Trenton rolled the car past her, and they were off in an attempt to follow without being made.

They almost lost the cab twice, but after ducking around two blocks and racing through one red light, they found themselves approaching the docks. "Could he be coming in on a different ship than we think?" Annie asked.

"Looks like that's what happening," Trenton replied. "You stay with the car. I'll follow on foot once she gets out of the cab. A man wandering around the docks is less likely to be noticed that a blonde in heels." Annie hated to miss any action, but was forced to agree. She slid into the driver's seat and slunk low as Trenton got out. The cabbie had parked in a visitor's slot for one of the major cruise lines and was waiting with his meter running. Annie wanted to try Auggie again, but was kept busy watching both the docking ship and the waiting cab.

After what seemed like an eternity, Trenton jogged back to their car. Some distance behind her partner, Annie could see the girl at the foot of the gangplank. Merry Joy was squeezed tight to the side of a tall, dark man. He carried only a small flight bag. It wasn't large enough or sturdy enough to carry the heavy titanium weapon's part he was supposed to be transporting.

"What's going on?" she asked as Trenton got back into the car.

"Damned if I know," her partner said. "Halabi practically ran off the ship, and they went at each other like monkeys in heat. That bag you see is the only luggage he had with him. He's probably going to let the crew unload his stuff and pick it up at the line's office later. We don't dare let him slip away from us now. We need to pick him up with his hands on the part to make a case stick against him."

The couple's cab pulled away and the agents followed. It was a long day. Annie and Trenton munched greasy drive-thru burgers and cold fries in the car while Ackeem Halabi and Merry Joy dined in a high end sushi restaurant.

Auggie hadn't called back, and Annie was seriously worried. "Trent," she said, "can you give me a minute? I need to get hold of Auggie."

"Sure," he said with a smile. "You're pretty fond of that guy, aren't you?" He pushed the car door open and prepared to step out.

Annie ducked her head and grinned.

"Lucky bastard," Trenton muttered. He pushed the car door shut and leaned against it.

Annie dialed and waited through the set number of rings until Auggie's recorded voice said, "You've reached Anderson's Awesome Electronics. Your voice is being recorded and will be stored for further analysis. Go ahead, if you dare."

Something cold stirred in the pit of Annie's stomach. Where was Auggie, and why hadn't he called her back? Instant communication was so much a part of their life that his voice seemed to be almost always with her. She felt achingly alone without it and sought for explanations. Maybe a friend called or came by, and he went out. Had she thoughtlessly left something out of place in the apartment that he might have stumbled over and been hurt? None of it seemed likely.

Trenton tapped on the window, and Annie clicked off the phone she had been staring at. Her partner got back into the car and smiled. "No luck?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It's not like him to miss our call schedule. I'm starting to get worried."

"Maybe he got called in to work. Have you checked with the office?"

"No, but it's a good idea. They call him every time something breaks down."

Annie's handler at the moment was Patrick. She liked the quietly efficient and easy-natured young Oriental and opened her connection to him. "Patrick," she asked, "is Auggie in today, or have you heard anything from him?"

"No, Annie," came the answer in his pleasant tenor voice. "I thought he had the weekend off. Why? Is it anything I can help you with?"

"No, thanks," Annie said, and he could hear the concern in her voice. "If he comes in, ask him to give me a call, please."

"Sure thing, Annie, and don't worry he'll turn up soon."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Consciousness came slowly. Auggie was first aware of thirst. He slid away again, and then, sometime later, became aware that he was lying on something damp and hard. He moved one hand slowly and found gritty dirt and a scraggly growth of grass and weeds beneath him. He seemed to be on the ground somewhere that got enough sun and water to sustain growth, and he wasn't tied. It took several tries and some time waiting for spells of dizziness to pass, but in time, he managed to sit up. He passed an arm over his head and contacted nothing; there was emptiness in front and to both sides. When he turned to explore behind himself, his hand met a vertical metal bar. There were others to the right and left of that one, and still more filled the space above and below.

Auggie used the bars to pull himself erect. There was moisture condensed on the cool metal rods, and he licked them - anything to ease the dryness in his mouth and throat. A slow exploration revealed that he was captive in an outdoor cage about 8' by 12'. A fairly sturdy banana tree filled the back left corner. The cage seemed to have been built around it, and the top was of the same closely-set steel bars that made up the rest of the enclosure. He encountered hinges that signaled a door, but it was securely fastened with a heavy chain and lock that combined both a key pad and a physical key to open.

He found he was dressed in baggy cotton pants of some sort and a tee shirt. He explored the incision where they had removed something from his shoulder. He recalled the unusually painful 'flu' shot, and surmised he had been unknowingly injected with a tracer bug. He knew anger would not serve him in this time and place, but he stored it away until those responsible could be made accountable.

He was barefoot, and there was nothing more on him or around him of any help. The humid air had warmed rapidly while he explored, and it smelled heavily of luxuriant vegetation and tropical flowers. Bird calls abounded along with the buzz and hum of insects. He thought the cage might have been built originally to contain monkeys or some other exotic pet. There was neither food nor water present and certainly no toilet facilities. He moved as far away from the tree as he could get, leaned against the bars and emptied his bladder outside his enclosure.

There was nothing more he could do at the moment, so he sat down with his back to the tree to wait. As the day advanced it grew steadily warmer until he could feel the sun beating directly on his body. The cage tree provided only small patches of shade at what he judged to be midday. Auggie felt fortunate that they hadn't found the implant high and behind his left eat that allowed his brain to interpret the signals from his laser cane. Since a minute strand of fiber optics followed the ear canal to deliver signals to his brain, removal would have been far more serious than simply cutting it out.

Auggie closed out all outside influences and concentrated intently. The implant was designed to keep a blind user informed of his or her location at all times. So, if he could concentrate strongly enough, it could be tasked to download geographic coordinates. It didn't always work perfectly, but it would help to know where he was. In time, figures formed in his mind, and he learned that he was at Latitude N25 degrees, 19 minutes and 26.9995 seconds and Longitude W77 degrees, 10 seconds, and 4.6875 second.

He didn't carry a detailed world map in his head, but he was able to determine that he wasn't in South America or Cuba, both things he had feared, but he wasn't that far from Cuba either. He was certainly very close to sea level and the passing breeze often carried a hint of salty air. He judged he was on a remote Florida Key, probably one not connected to the Overseas Highway and, therefore, accessible only by boat or plane. It made an effective hideaway where they were unlikely to be disturbed.

He wondered when Mercer and his thugs would come for him. He had seen ghastly torture in Iraq; there was little they could do that would surprise him. He had been trained in tough CIA and Special Forces schools on how to resist torture, but even the roughest training was different from the real thing. To know that your body belonged to an enemy and that he could use it with total disregard for how much pain or mutilation resulted could dissolve determination and paralyze rational thought.

A program of isolation and starvation seemed to have already begun. He could deal with being alone easily; he had always depended largely on himself. He could survive for weeks without food, but three days in this heat without water would see him close to death. It seemed unlikely they would let it go that far if they hoped to learn anything useful from him. Still, he decided to lick the dew from the cage bars again this evening when the dew condensed. Meanwhile, he might as well rest. The old Army adage said "sleep when you can." Auggie dug out a spot for his hips in the largest patch of shade, found the most comfortable position he could and closed his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The couple Annie and Trenton had been assigned to follow spent Sunday afternoon in a round of frenzied activity. They met friends and went bar hopping through the best clubs and bars Seattle had to offer. That led to a progressive dinner through a half dozen luxury mansions, and on to see a concert by one of the country's most in-demand pop artists. Annie was exhausted by the time the party broke up in the early hours of Monday morning. She joined Trenton in making a full report to their relief team, mumbled a goodnight and stumbled off to her hotel room. She didn't want to call Auggie at 3:00 a.m. and fell asleep with the intention of calling before he left for work.

When Joan went to look for Auggie at shortly after 9:00 a.m. on Monday morning, she found he wasn't at his desk or anywhere in the bull pen. Stu told her that he hadn't come in that morning. She was surprised, but not overly concerned. She went to her office and called him at home. She got the annoying 'Anderson's Awesome Electronics' message and was switched to voice mail. She tried again in a few minutes with the same result. By mid-morning her annoyance had mutated into worry. Was he ill, injured, unable to reach a phone for some reason? She was trying to decide what to do when she got a frantic call from Annie Walker.

"Joan," her voice was high and hurried. "Where is Auggie? Is he hurt? I can't reach him. Stu said he didn't come to work this morning. He didn't answer when I called Saturday night or all day yesterday. Something is wrong; I know it!"

Annie had slept longer than she intended, and had tried Auggie first at the office and then again at home. When she got the persistent 'leave a message' response each time, fear and anxiety made her feel almost physically ill. "I'm coming home, Joan. You need to send somebody to replace me. I have to find Auggie."

Joan submerged her own concern to deal with Annie's. "Easy, Annie. You need to stick with the mission there." The cool, professional tone brought Annie to some realization of her job responsibilities. "I've just learned in the last two hours that nobody seems able to reach Auggie. I'm going to send someone to the apartment to check on him. I'll let you know as soon as I have any solid information. Maybe he's visiting with family or friends, and just forgot to let us know." Even as she spoke the words, she knew how unlike August Anderson that possibility was.

Joan managed to calm Annie and get her refocused on the Seattle mission. Once that was settled she called Stu into her office. "Have you ever been to Auggie's apartment?" she asked.

"Yeah, they invited Barber and me over for dinner a couple of weeks ago, and I had been there once or twice before. Barber probably knows the place better than I do. I know he's with Jai now, but he did take Auggie home when he was so wrecked after he got Annie out of that cave in Mexico. I gather Eric spent some time there making sure the boss was okay."

"You'll do just fine," Joan told him. "I'm going to give you the security keys to his apartment. If he doesn't respond when you ring, let yourself in and make an assessment of the place. If he's ill or hurt call me, and I'll send an ambulance. If there's no one there, find out as much as you can about what might have happened. Get back to me as soon as possible. Any questions?"

"No ma'am. I'm on my way." Stu took the keys Joan offered and hurried out to collect his things. A long hour of waiting later, he called Joan.

"I'm in Auggie's apartment now. He's not here, but was here earlier. It's hard to be sure just when. Auggie's pretty neat. The bed's been made, but there's a used towel in the bathroom, and there are rinsed, but not washed, dishes in the dishwasher. The doorman says that Auggie went out Saturday afternoon, and no one has seen him since."

Joan thought for a moment. "This doorman, does he seem reliable?"

"His name is Beauford," Stu said. "He tells me he was working here when Auggie moved in. He thinks Auggie works for a private security outfit. I gather the man feels some responsibility for looking after Auggie and is plenty worried. Being blind, Auggie can have that effect on people – until you get to know how lethal he can be."

"Come on back," Joan told him. "I'm going to get someone started checking hospitals, morgues and the police, just in case he managed to get himself arrested."

There was no one who matched Auggie's description in any of the area's hospitals or morgues. The police had been swamped over the weekend with a march on the White House by disgruntled Occupy Wall Street members. They were still trying to deal with getting court dates scheduled and matching lawyers with their jailed clients. As the detective assigned to Evelyn's report of Auggie's abduction had not placed August Anderson on any watch list, they drew another blank there.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They came for Auggie in the early afternoon. He was awake and heard them approach from the direction the heat of the morning sun had told him was east. They were arguing in German and still not aware of how well Auggie heard. Mercer said, "Nein, sie können nicht tun." _No, you can't do that_. He would never match Annie's skill, but German, French and Farsi, along with a little pick-up Spanish, were the languages Auggie was fairly fluent in. The two men continued without bothering to lower their voices.

"You should let me yank a few teeth; it's very effective," said a strange voice.

"I'll say it one more time," Mercer replied. "No permanent disfigurement. That means you can't pull his teeth or rip out fingernails. You can't cut off his toes or smash joints. Any physical injury has to heal without any permanent after effects. I have to be able to give him back to his masters in one piece. Have you got that clear?"

The strange voice swore and then mumbled, "Ya, ya, I got it. So how do I make him talk?"

"There's plenty you can do, up to and including water boarding. He's blind and can't see anything coming – use that." They arrived at his cage.

Auggie was standing a few feet back from the door. He could smell food. "Good afternoon, Herr Mercer," he said. "Who's your friend?"

"You'll get to know him soon enough," Mercer snapped. "You have ten minutes to eat, and then he'll assist as we have our first little chat. Squat down, I'll shove your plate and a bottle of water under the door."

Auggie had discovered the three inch space between the bottom bar of the cage door and the packed earth beneath it. You could get a hand through it, but not much more. He squatted on his side of the door as he heard something scrape through the dirt. He gently patted the earth ahead of him and found a tin plate with bits of food on it and a plastic bottle of fluid. He gathered them up and retreated to his spot under the cage tree.

"That's right man monkey," Mercer taunted. Use your fingers and eat fast."

Auggie refused to let the insults bother him. He knew it was important to eat and drink while he could, and he had dined with his fingers before. He twisted off the cap on the plastic bottle and found it contained warm, stale water. No matter, it was liquid. He drank several swallows. Each he held in his mouth for a moment to let the tissues absorb the fluids.

He quickly discovered that the plate was mostly table scraps and scrapings, but it was still fresh. He found bone with good bites of beef and chicken still attached and several pieces of boiled potato. He ate them quickly and hoped the first diner didn't have any easily transmitted diseases. There was also a heap of lettuce and tomatoes – apparently Mercer's men weren't big salad eaters. Auggie consumed most of it and drank all but a few ounces of the water. He tucked the bottle against the tree trunk for later.

He set the plate aside, leaned back against the tree trunk, stretched out his long legs and relaxed. "I've had better, but not bad for an isolated Key. Who's your cook?"

Mercer shouted from the gate. "Anderson, get over here, now! And bring that damned plate with you, if you ever want to eat again."

Auggie crossed his legs at the ankle, stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He knew it was only a delaying tactic, but every minute he could stay out of their hands was a minute closer to rescue. It was a game of cat and mouse, and he had to play it will all the skill he possessed.

"I'm not going to waste my time on you. Get over here and be quick about it." Auggie hear the safety on Mercer's Walther .32 click off.

"Dead men don't reveal much information, secret or otherwise," Auggie said.

"No, but if I put one in your knee, I bet you'd be happy to crawl over here." Mercer's voice was deadly quiet.

Auggie had just heard Mercer stress the no mutilation rule to his wingman, but he had a hunch that Mercer's temper had a low boiling point when it came to August Anderson.

"Well, if you're going to be nasty about it…," Auggie slowly got to his feet and ambled toward the door.

"I told you to bring that frickin' plate with you!"

"Oops." Auggie turned back and began to pat all around under the tree. He could have put his hand directly on the plate, but he made it seem as difficult as he could.

"To your left, your left!"

Auggie found the plate and picked it up. "Okay, okay, I got it. Now, where is that door?" He wandered toward the far side of his cage and began to feel around the bars.

"Here," Mercer shouted. "You're better than that; you're not foolin' me. Get over here!"

Auggie trailed his hand along the bars and presently arrived at the door.

"Turn around and put your back to the gate. Hands behind you."

Auggie complied. Rough hands reached through the bars and clicked handcuffs around his wrists. Then the door was opened; he was jerked through it and spun around. The pistol was jabbed sharply into his ribs.

He was shoved and dragged some distance to stumble up two steps into a cool, moist smelling room where he was pushed into a sturdy wooden chair. Mercer kept his weapon dug into Auggie's ear to assure he stayed still while his ankles were tied to the chair's legs and a rope run around his arms and through the rungs of the chair back. When he was solidly secured the two men stepped back.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

In the silence, Auggie distinctly heard the sound of waves lapping on a beach and smelled the salty, fishy scent of the ocean. He judged he was in a side room of the main house which fronted on an ocean view.

"Nice place you have here," Auggie said in a conversational tone. "A lot better than Washington in winter. Is it yours, or borrowed from a friend? Fishing good?" He smiled brightly.

"We're not here for idle chatter," Mercer told him. "You know how interrogation works. Everybody talks sooner or later. There's no point in making us beat it out of you. Save yourself the pain and tell me what I want to know."

"Exactly what is it you want to know?" Auggie knew that the secret to surviving long spells of interrogation was not to go silent, but to talk willingly and at length. He planned to describe in much detail things that would take hours or even days to check.

"I want information on secret operations, things that only you and a few top people know. I intend to prove that you've betrayed your country for money."

"Like you have, Ben? It surprised me when I found out just how venal you are. I can understand you infiltrating the CIA for Mossad. Your parents were both American, and you were raised a good Israeli. Our intelligence was in pretty poor shape after 9/11, and you probably felt you were doing a service for both countries. Maybe you even were. But gun runners and then terrorists – the enemies of both our countries? Why? Was it the gambling, or the beautiful blonde women? What coin do they pay you in that makes betrayal worthwhile?"

Mercer swung with all his force and hit Auggie with an openhanded slap that snapped his head around, cut the inside of his cheek against his teeth and brought blood trickling from his nose.

Auggie shook his head and turned to spit blood onto the floor. "So much for civil conversation then," he said. "But I still wonder about your motivation. You had the best of two worlds. Now you're disavowed or dangling by a thread almost everywhere. Was it all for Elfe, and where does Annie fit into your plans?"

Mercer's strike came from the other direction this time, and Auggie had expected it. He turned with the blow and lessened its force. Still it brought more blood from his nose. Auggie ignored it.

"You're a trained and gifted spy, Mercer, supposedly an intelligent man. You can't really believe that Annie would want a relationship with you once she knows your services are for sale to anyone with enough gold Krugerrands in their pocke…"

Mercer used his fist and drove it deep into Auggie's midriff. The air exploded from his lungs, and he doubled over as far as his bonds permitted. Paralyzed with the sudden pain of the hit, Auggie was quickly frantic for air. He could feel consciousness slipping away before his stunned diaphragm relaxed enough to let him gasp in a breath of life giving oxygen. He let his head hang on his chest and took his time to recover. He could hear Mercer's German companion arguing with him.

"You are allowing him to take control of this session. He is trying to get inside your head and make you question why you are doing this. You will never get the information you want this way. You tell me he was a trained CIA agent. A few blows will not break him. You brought me here to interrogate him. Go, take a walk on the beach, catch a fish, read a book and let me do my job."

Auggie heard a low growl, then footsteps stomped across the wooden floor and a door slammed. There was quiet for several minutes, but Auggie could feel the intensity of his interrogator's gaze. Presently the German spoke in a quiet, pleasant tone.

"So, Herr Anderson, are you recovered sufficiently to speak now?"

"Yes."

"Sehr gute, very good. Are you truly blind? I have never had a blind subject before.

Auggie smiled one of his wide, engaging smiles. _My God, my torturer is curious about blindness. Well, I'll be happy to enlighten him. Any diversions welcome._

"Yes, mein Herr, truly and fully blind. I see nothing: no light, no shapes, nothing at all."

"But you appear to look at me." He moved several steps to his right. "Your eyes follow me."

"My actual eyes and the muscles that move them weren't seriously injured. It's the optic nerves that are dead. I've learned to direct my eyes with my attention. I don't always get it right. People tell me that I often seem to look just over their shoulder. When you moved I could hear you and followed with my eyes. If you look closely, you will see that there's no appearance of sharp focus. It's as if I am off somewhere lost in thought – or so I'm told."

The man moved until he was directly in front of Auggie and bent until he could look closely at his face. Auggie could feel his breath brush across his cheeks. It was fresh and smelled of mint mouthwash. Auggie remained perfectly still and kept his breathing slow and calm. Presently, the man backed away, and Auggie heard him pull up a chair and sit.

"Interesting. They are correct; your eyes do not focus – much like a newborn infants. Is there no treatment?

"None, at this time." Auggie felt again the pain of his recent exam and its disappointment. "Still, there is a lot of research being done. One can always hope."

There was another long silence. "But you don't," his interrogator said.

_The man's clever. He must have heard the flatness in my tone, seen some sign of resignation in my face. _ Auggie's answer was honest. "No, I don't think there'll be a cure in time to do me any good. Does it matter?"

"I'm not sure yet. Is it more or less fearsome when you can't see what's coming? But you are not going to tell me that, are you?"

"No." Auggie grinned again. "I will tell you it makes it easier to eat the garbage they feed me when I can't see it."

The man laughed. "A good sense of humor. I like that. Come, Herr Anderson, you are an intelligent man, trained and skilled in what you do. So am I. Interrogation could take a long time. There is no reason for you to suffer. I am not some lunatic who relishes another's pain. You know what Herr Mercer wants – some bit of secret information he can use to disgrace you. Give me something that will satisfy him and you will be set free. Tell your people whatever you like about what happened here. Even if they turn you out, there are other, much safer, ways to make a living. I sense that you will do well in whatever you undertake."

"An appeal to reason. You make good points, Herr …. What may I call you?"

"We will not bother with foolish titles. Call me Jakob. And you …?"

"Auggie, it's short for August."

"August, unusual is it not?"

"Somewhat. I'm the youngest of five brothers. I suppose they were running out of names, and it was a long, hot summer for my mother."

Jakob chuckled. "Very well. Auggie, it will be. Now, what do you have to tell me?"

_Here goes_, Auggie thought. He had carefully prepared his first diversion. It had a high probability of being believed and would take some time to verify or disprove. He hoped it would gain him a day or more.

"I suppose you already know about the underground fortress and listening post we're building in the northwestern Hindu Kush?"

"I'd be interested to know more," Jakob said. His tone expressed mild curiosity, but his face said something more had Auggie been able to see it.

"I'm sure everyone knows we'll be pulling out of Afghanistan very soon, but we plan to leave behind a listening post that can pick up transmissions of every sort from China, Iran, Pakistan, and pretty much everywhere in central Asia. It will also house a large compliment of highly trained troops that can act as a rescue or shock force should it be necessary to get boots on the ground fast."

"And how is it that this hasn't made CNN or some other news source?'

"We're coming in through Tajikistan, and doing it very quietly. The people in that area are largely Sunni Muslims while Iran is run by the Shi'ites, so they're not anxious to carry tales. The borders in that area are confused despite the old Durand Line boundaries, and nobody cares much."

"Surely, such a major installation will be quickly spotted?"

"It's all underground, except for a few antennas, and they'll be disguised as part of the local flora. We brought in a major boring machine, piece by piece, and reassembled it on site. The tailings are being carefully spread and blended in at night."

"And exactly where in the Hindu Kush is this underground fortress located?"

"Yeah. Well, that's the one piece of information I don't have. Only a few highly placed individuals know the exact coordinates. I've been trying to find out for months with no luck. The Chinese would pay top dollar for the information." Auggie knew they would assume he knew the location and would try to pry it out of him, but they wouldn't go too far until they could verify the basic story.

"Think hard, my friend," Jakob said. "I find it difficult to believe you could know so much about a project, and not know exactly where it is being built."

Auggie shrugged. His bad shoulder ached with the steady, twisting pressure of his bonds. "Sorry, I'd like to get out of that cage, even if Mercer manages to get me fired. I just don't know."

"Don't be foolish. I will hurt you again if I must."

"Sure wish you wouldn't do that. I'm trying to cooperate."

Jakob said nothing more, but busied himself with the assembly of electrodes, wires and a rheostat. The hot, still air of the island afternoon was soon stirred by muffled shouts and the thuds of heavy convulsions.

Power coursed through Auggie's system, leapt from node to node, destroyed cells and cross wired vital connections. It left behind searing, painful burns both inside and out.

Auggie was dragged back to his cage and dumped inside as the sun began to drop below the tree line.

He remained face down and still for several minutes until the frantic jittering of his body's internal communication system, induced by repeated electric shock, began to subside. When he could he made his way to the tree and recovered the water bottle he had placed there. It held only a few swallows of warm, stale water, but it moistened his mouth and parched throat. _They're deliberately keeping me short on water, _ran through his mind. _They know dehydration will lead to confusion and diminished capacity faster that torture. Looks like I'll be licking my bars again tonight. _He found a cool spot of earth and curled up on it, determined to rest while he could. Annie would find him; all he had to do was hang on.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Annie and Trenton followed faithfully as Merry and Ackeem drove back to the harbor and parked near the offices of the cruise line favored by the tall, darkly handsome young man their asset had fingered. He went inside and shortly returned followed by a stevedore with a large steamer trunk on a dolly. The two men wrestled the heavy trunk into the back of the couple's van. The trunk hauler accepted what the smile on his face suggested was a lavish tip; their suspected smuggler got back into his car and drove sedately to the girl's apartment.

When the pair began to lug the weighty piece of luggage inside, Annie turned to Trenton. "Let's cut this short and bring them in." She was worried about Auggie and nagged by the feeling this assignment would never end.

"We can't rush it," Trenton cautioned. "We need to be sure he has the part in his hands. Alert the rest of the team to be ready."

Annie turned on her mike with a quick tilt of her head and spoke softly, "Alpha team assemble on me; capture appears imminent."

Her handler came back immediately. "I've had everybody on high alert since they picked up the trunk. They should be with you in ten minutes."

Why wasn't it Auggie's voice in her ear offering advice and support in his warm, caring baritone, not someone she hardly knew? Where was Auggie? She was worrying the question once more when shots snatched her back into the moment.

"Shots fired, shots fired," Annie snapped as she and Trenton bailed out of the car. "Get the others here now!" They ran for the apartment building doors. Annie's hand went to the small of her back where the Colt .38 XSE Lightweight Commander with the short barrel nestled comfortable in the custom holster Auggie had designed for her. No more attending gunfights armed only with her wits or a can of pepper spray for Annie Walker.

Annie and Trenton arrived in the hallway outside Merry Joy's apartment to find it crowded with dark-suited men and smoky with gunfire.

"What the hell," Trenton muttered as they pressed back against the stairwell wall. A burst of fire from inside the apartment made everyone seek cover. As soon as it stopped a fresh-faced young blonde in an ill-fitting suit flung himself into the stairwell beside them.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded as he held up a badge of some sort.

"We wondered the same thing," Annie said as she and Trenton fished out their I.D.'s.

"We're Washington State Police. A woman by the name of Joy called in a tip early this morning – something about a WMD. This is clearly a hostile takedown. You need to leave."

"Not likely," Trenton told the young blonde. "We're Federal and have had 'em under surveillance for weeks. We have jurisdiction."

It took a while, but after Ackeem was stunned by a ricochet, Merry Joy quickly surrendered. Hasty phone calls went out to all the agencies involved, and the Washington state authorities reluctantly gave way to the weight of CIA authority.

Annie's team collected Ackeem and all the parts for the atomic weapon that had been packed into his trunk and hustled them away. The State Police had become involved when Merry, alarmed by Ackeem's claims of the devastation the weapon would cause, called in a tip only a few hours before the confrontation at the apartment.

A lawyer hired by Mr. Joy quickly appeared, and the conscience-stricken girl was released into his custody. Annie didn't know what would happen to her, and for once, she didn't much care. Anyone dumb enough to get involved with a terrorist deserved what they got.

"I'm out of here!" she told Trenton and her handler. "You can wind this mess up without me. I'm on my way to the airport and the first flight home. You can put me on leave without pay if you must." Two hours later she was in the last seat available on a direct flight to Washington, D.C.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

It was well after dark when James, whose genitals Auggie had punished on that first afternoon, brought a plate of scraps and another small bottle of water to Auggie's cage. "Come spy dog and get your supper," he called out.

Auggie roused from a restless sleep and made his slow way to the cage door. His captor roughly pushed the plate and bottle through the opening under the door and demanded, "Speak for your supper, boy."

"James," Auggie said in a soothing tone. "It is James isn't it?" Auggie quickly located the water bottle and removed it from the reach of anyone outside. "Thanks for bringing my rations. Was it your turn tonight?"

Auggie sat down cross-legged near the door and pulled the plate into his lap. He wiped his fingers on his shirt and began to carefully feel through its contents. With unkind intent James turned the beam of the bright, LED flashlight he carried full into Auggie face. Outside all of James' previous experience, Auggie neither blinked nor shielded his eyes.

"You really can't see, can you?" he said in surprise. Somehow it had failed to truly sink in before.

"No," Auggie said with a smile. "Blind as a bat. Thought you knew that?"

"I did, it just … just…"

"Makes it hard to know what to expect, doesn't it? When they piled their scraps on my plate did Mercer spit in it?"

Caught off guard, James answered, "He was going to, but Jakob stopped him. Said it was 'uncivilized'."

"Please thank Jakob for me when you get back. Sorry you caught supper duty tonight. When do you come again?"

"Ah… this is Monday. I come again on Saturday. Why?"

"No reason, just nice chatting with you. Have a good night." After a bit of shuffling, Auggie heard James' departing footsteps. He hoped the big German never realized that he had just told his prisoner that this was Monday night and that there were at least five captors present on the island.

It took all of Auggie's will power to keep from gulping down the pint or so of water the bottle held. Thirst was a constant, nagging need that was always with him. His throat ached and his lips were beginning to split. He took a few slow and careful sips, savoring each one. He capped the bottle well and turned again to his table leavings.

There was a good bit of a dish of chopped cabbage and carrots that was quite moist. He ate all of it he could find. The meat seemed to have been pork chops. There wasn't much left beyond bones and fat. He sucked the bones and scraped off bits of meat with his teeth that knife and fork had missed. The fat would give energy. He mixed it with bits of potato to make it easier to get down. Once again there were tomato slices and leaf lettuce – both most welcome for their water content. There was an almost whole biscuit soaked in good pork gravy. It was the best thing he'd been given so far.

Hunger eased, he turned again to the water. After some thought, he drank it all. As much as he wanted a reserve, he needed it now more. He still planned to reclaim as much liquid as possible from his cage bars after dewfall. What his mouth couldn't reach, he would soak up with his shirt and use to clean his face and hands.

He tucked the empty water bottle between two tree roots with the other one. He hoped they were out of easy sight of the cage door. This was a tropical island; it had to rain soon, and Auggie had plans. He retreated to his nest under the tree to rest while he could.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Annie got into Washington just after dawn on Tuesday morning. She snatched her luggage from the overhead and was down the aisle and off the plane before the other passengers were well awake. She took a taxi directly to the apartment, swore under her breath at the slowness of the elevator and slammed their door back calling, "Auggie, Auggie are you here?"

She was greeted only by silence and the gray light of early morning that filtered into the apartment to leech out colors and drape all his familiar things in mourning. One heartbroken sob escaped her. She knew, but somehow she had hoped.

Annie was strong, and resourceful and trained. She refused to give in to fear and despair. She put down her things, turned on all the lights and began a top to bottom search of the apartment. In the end, it told her little more than Stu had discovered. Auggie had spent Friday night and part of Saturday at home.

He had promised to clean out the refrigerator and had done so. Several small amounts of leftovers that his acute sense of smell told him were not longer fit for the table had been sealed in plastic and dropped into the rubbish bin. He had sponged the interior of the fridge with hot soda water that left it clean and fresh. Friday's soiled clothes and a bath towel were in the laundry hamper. Sleep shorts and tee shirt were neatly folded on the made up bed.

There was no note, no helpful messages in the voice mail and no sign of a grocery order or takeout food to last the weekend. It was as if he had simply walked into another time or dimension. The phone rang once and Annie pounced on it. It was Joan checking to see if Auggie had returned. Annie described the results of her search and said she would be in soon.

She thoughtfully unpacked her bag, ate fruit, toast and tea, took a shower and dressed in a clean business suit and severe blouse. She collected the keys to Auggie's beloved Corvette and drove to Langley.

Once through security and into D.P.D. she went directly to Joan's office.

Joan had put down her phone after Annie hung up and walked directly to Arthur Campbell's office. She waited five minutes until one of his senior case officers exited, and then walked in – lean, erect, beautiful and cool as always.

Arthur smiled. Few understood his wife as he did, but he always felt and uplift of spirit and a surge of desire in her presence.

"Joan, to what do I owe this pleasure?" They had parted a little over an hour earlier, but he was still glad to see her, no matter the problem.

"Auggie is missing." It was a flat statement of fact, not a question. "What do you know about it?"

"Missing! What do you mean missing?" Arthur had set a watch on the RFID device that had been injected into Auggie's arm with his flu shot, and nothing out of the ordinary had been reported.

"Missing," Joan said, "as in gone, completely out of contact, location unknown – missing. No one has seen or heard from him since shortly after noon on Saturday. I'm worried, his section needs him and Annie is frantic. His apartment is empty, but undisturbed. The doorman there says he had no visitors. Phone records are normal except for all the unanswered messages from Annie, myself and his crew. He has simply vanished without a trace. I'm asking if you know anything about it?"

"Auggie is perfectly safe," Arthur assured her. "You know he's been suspected of disloyalty to The Company and possibly even active espionage. I arranged an action with another agent whose motives are also under a cloud. It should reveal which one is loyal and which isn't. You can assure Annie that he will return safely and soon."

"I'll try to do that, Arthur," Joan told her husband, "but I would like to know more. Who is this other agent, and where are they? How can you be sure Auggie is safe? He's been through a great deal in the last few years. Any sort of 'extraordinary rendition' might destroy him."

"He's tougher than you might think, Joan, and I can promise you that he hasn't been taken out of the country and won't be damaged. I know a warrior when I see one, and these two are going head to head."

Joan shook her head. "I don't like it Arthur. I simply do not like it. Auggie is vital to my section, and I can't see him betraying his country or his friends. I will accept your word for now, but my patience is definitely limited."

"Thank you, my dear. I'm grateful for your trust. Everything should be resolved soon." He smiled and walked her to the door. His tracker team would inform him if Auggie was taken out of the country. He felt confident that everything was proceeding well.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

When Annie entered Joan's office she was invited to sit down, and Joan closed the door before sitting at her desk.

"Would you like something, Annie – coffee, fruit juice?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I would like to know where Auggie is. How can he simply disappear between one minute and the next?"

"I've just come from speaking with the Director, Annie. He assures me that Auggie is within the U.S. and perfectly safe. The present action will prove once and for all if he is still loyal to our organization. He will be home soon, and I have no doubt, that all questions will be resolved in his favor."

Annie sat perfectly still as her face went slowly white. Her teeth clenched and her strong jaw jutted. When she spoke her voice was low.

"Auggie Anderson would never betray this country. He spied for it, fought for it, gave up his sight for it, and still came back to do everything he can do for it. How can you doubt him?" Her voice rose to a hiss at the end.

"I don't, Annie. I've known Auggie a long time, and I trust him implicitly. But, others, higher up, require a different sort of proof. This is intended to provide it. Please, be patient for a little while, and Auggie will be home."

"At least tell me where he is, who he's with?"

"I can't, Annie, because I don't know. This is being very closely held. All I can do is offer you the same assurances I've been given and ask for your understanding."

Annie turned her gaze away and sat in silence for some time. When she turned back, it was clear a decision had been made.

"I believe I have several weeks of decompression and annual leave accumulated, don't I?"

"You do, yes."

"I'd like to take some of it now, starting immediately. I can't free my mind of concern for the most important person in my life. My work would suffer dangerously, I'm afraid." She started to stand.

Joan spoke quickly. "You could work here in the office. We always need good translations and familiarity with the customs of other countries."

"Thank you, but my heart and my focus simply would not be there. I need this time off."

"I understand, and you've earned it. Go; fill out your paperwork now, and I'll sign it immediately."

Annie followed Joan's instructions and was on her way home by noon. She stopped at the private box Auggie maintained as his public address and picked up a large stack of mail that had accumulated there.

She stopped again at Mr. Moretti's deli to pick up a chicken sandwich and salad for her lunch and premade lasagna she could reheat for dinner. She asked if he had seen Auggie in the past week and learned that the last time he had been in was a week ago when they came in together for his famous stuffed artichokes.

She let herself into the apartment, dropped her purse, the mail and her purchases on the kitchen table, sank into a chair and lowered her head slowly into her hands.

Annie had never been afraid of being alone, but the emptiness of the apartment was agony. Her relationship with Auggie was so fresh, still so urgent in their need for each other. She felt as if some part of her person had been torn away. Auggie was very private, unused to revealing his depths to anyone. He was just beginning to open up with her, and each step gave her something else to love: his concern and care for other vets, his careful education of his geek squad of youngsters, the total trust revealed by his gift of an almost unlimited credit card …

She forced her thoughts away. It would do no good to sit and sob. Food had lost its appeal, but she forced down the salad and most of the sandwich. When only crusts were left, she pushed them aside and began to leaf idly through the mail. Bills she set to one side; she would have to pay them. Circulars and ads she glanced at briefly and tossed into a trash pile. She had another envelope in her hand ready to consign it to the trash when it struck her that it was from Priceless Pearls, the place where Auggie had bought the beautiful pink pearl necklace for her. And, strangely it was address to Ms. Annie Walker and not to Mr. August Anderson. She opened it and read:

_ Dear Ms. Walker:_

_ Forgive my writing to you directly, but I fear _

_ something may have happened to Mr. Anderson. He_

_ picked up a package at Priceless Pearls on Saturday _

_ afternoon last and left the shop. Shortly thereafter_

_ a closed van sped by the store, and when I stepped _

_ outside, I saw the package abandoned in the street_

_ along with Mr. Anderson's broken cane. I have both_

_ here at the store. If you will stop by, I will give them_

_ into your care, and explain more of what I saw and _

_subsequently did._

_With all best wishes,_

_ Evelyn Abernathy_

Annie felt a wall of icy fear rise up in her very center. For a moment she thought she would lose the food she had just eaten. Her hands started to tremble and she gasped for air. From somewhere she remembered Auggie's advice in the cave and began to breathe in the steady rhythm he had taught her. She concentrated only on her counted breaths and nothing else until the tremors eased and her mind began to function rationally again.

It didn't matter what they had told her at DPD, something far worse had happened to Auggie. Out alone on a busy Saturday afternoon with streets to cross and obstacles to avoid – Auggie would rather lose his pants than his cane. The long, slender shaft that he moved so deftly through his dark world provided a mass of sensory input that was vital to his safety. He would never abandon it deliberately.

Annie called Priceless Pearls and asked for Ms. Abernathy. The junior clerk on duty replied that she was out to lunch, but should be back by two o'clock.

Annie washed her hands and face, put on fresh makeup, gathered her purse and set off once again. She was sitting on the bench outside Priceless Pearls when Evelyn Abernathy returned, and she followed her inside. The efficient saleswoman recognized her at once.

"Miss Walker, I am so happy to see you," Evelyn said. "I have been most concerned for your friend, Mr. Anderson. Did you get my letter?"

"I just got it," Annie told her. "I've been out of the city for a few days, and I'm worried, too. Please tell me everything you saw."

Evelyn drew Annie into the small stockroom, and quickly related the events of the past Saturday: Auggie's visit to pay for and pick up his package, the slam of car doors and the screech of tires as the dark van raced by, her decision to look after it, and finally, the discovery of the package on the sidewalk and Auggie's broken cane that she recovered from the gutter. She took down the cane from a shelf and handed it to Annie.

"Was it folded or unfolded when you found it? Annie asked.

"It was unfolded." Evelyn had folded the cane to store it. Annie carefully unfolded it. She could feel the worn spot where he usually gripped it smooth under her hand. It had been broken in two places. Only a few strands of tough fiber held it together. So Auggie had been walking when he was attacked. Probably he had used the cane in some way to defend himself. He would never have left it willingly. He must have been unconscious or completely overpowered.

"Where is he?" Evelyn asked. "Is he alright; do you know?"

"I don't know," Annie said slowly. "I don't know, but I intend to find out! Is there anything more you can tell me?"

Evelyn went on to recount her experience with the police and the lack of any positive results from their investigation. Annie nodded. If the police had any suspicion that Auggie was with one of the secret government agencies, they would drop their inquiries. She was on her own.

"Promise me you'll let me know when you find him?" Evelyn said. "He is such a nice man, and I can't help but worry. I do hope he's okay."

Annie promised and was almost ready to leave when Evelyn remembered the package. "Wait, I need to give you his package," she said. Annie stopped and turned back. Evelyn went to the safe and opened it. She took out one of the distinctive shop bags and handed it to Annie. "Our jeweler created this from a design Mr. Anderson described to him. I believe he intended it as a gift for you. I'm so sorry, but it got a bit of dirt on it when it was dropped. Would you like a new package?"

"No, no this will be fine," Annie replied. She thanked Evelyn for all her help and left with the package held close against her side along with Auggie's broken cane. He had a spare at the apartment – if she only knew how to get it to him.

She let herself in and slid the heavy door to behind her. She was careful to set the locks. She went again to the table and set the package and the shattered cane before her. A magnificent case of maroon watered silk lay within the tattered Priceless Pearls bag. Annie lifted it out reverently. Auggie would have liked the feel of the rich fabric.

Annie undid the gold clasp and slowly opened the case. The most magnificent pearl necklace she had ever seen rested within it. A huge teardrop shaped white pearl hung between two slightly smaller and perfectly round black pearls. They were strung on a chain of gold links with small white pearls space every half inch along its length. Had Auggie truly intended this for her? She could scarcely believe it. She turned her attention to the card.

The envelope contained a sheet of heavy, elegant white stationary. Auggie had handwritten the note. At work he usually scrawled his name somewhere in the vicinity of the signature line with what looked like a pair of capital, script "A's" with a squiggle in-between. Here he had written carefully using the stiff line spacing guides he hated. It read.

_**My Dearest Annie:**_

_**You are the one gleaming light in my dark world. You have led me from the shadows into the sunshine.**_

_**These pearls come to you bearing all my love. Think of me with kindness when you wear them. You are the most precious thing in my life. Always keep your beautiful light alive.**_

_**Your Auggie**_

Was it a declaration of his love or a farewell note?

The floodgate of her tears swept open and the fear, anxiety and aching loneliness poured out. She had fought them back for a long as she could. She dropped everything and ran. Ran for the bedroom and the bed they shared. She scooped up the shirt and shorts he had slept in and clutched them close as she threw herself down and buried her face in his pillow. His clean, masculine scent surrounded her, and she sobbed until, exhausted, she fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

When she awoke it was morning, and late morning at that. The long hours on stakeout in Seattle, the final gun battle, the flight home and all the turmoil of yesterday had drained her. Having cried herself to sleep, she slept deeply and well. Embarrassed to awaken in her clothes and ravenously hungry, Annie raced through a shower and dressing. She heated and ate the lasagna that was to have been last night's supper for breakfast and was out the door in less than an hour. Auggie would have grumbled at the mess she left behind her.

Annie drove directly to Langley and once again confronted Joan. "He was abducted off the street, Joan," Annie said. "I have a witness, and there's no other explanation. I don't see how you can be so sure he's safe?"

"Annie, this goes way up the chain. Despite my demands, I haven't been fully read in. We simply have to take their word that Auggie is safe. I find I have to believe them. I hope you can as well. Don't hang around the apartment and worry. Go to the coast and get some sun, go shopping, visit Danielle and the girls. Keep yourself busy for a few days, and I fully expect we'll have Auggie back."

Annie frowned, her smile absent, her dark eyes filled with questions. "I don't know, Joan. I'll try, but something feels terribly wrong about all this." Privately she determined to continue her search for some clue to his whereabouts.

"Don't do anything foolish, Annie," Joan advised before ushering Annie out of her office and firmly closing the door.

Annie made her way out of the department followed by the worried eyes of Auggie's crew. Just as she was in the final hallway, Stu caught up with her.

"Annie, it's Auggie isn't it? You don't know where he is either, do you?"

"No. They keep telling me he's safe, but that's all – not where he is or who he's with or when he'll be back. I think it's some sort of trial or test. I'm worried. I'm scared. He promised me he'd always find some way to let me know where he was." The words stirred something in her memory, but Stu interrupted the thought.

"The whole damn office is worried, Annie. This is so not Auggie's way. Promise me that if you need help with anything, you'll let me know? Auggie's got friends here and so do you. Use me if you need me. I mean it!"

Annie squeezed his arm and managed a smile. "Thanks, Stu; I will. I promise." She made her way out, worrying at the thought that had escaped her mind.

She returned to the empty apartment. She looked at the kitchen table with its sprawl of envelopes and dirty dishes. Envelopes! Envelope – that was it! Auggie had made her promise to open the big envelope in her safe if he was ever out of touch for 24 hours or more. 24 hours – My God, it's been almost 5 days!

Annie ran to the safe in her dressing room and worked the combination with fingers that trembled. She lifted the heavy door and reach deep inside. The big manila envelope with 'ANNIE' on it in Auggie's uneven scrawl was there. She pulled it out, took it to her desk and sat looking at it for several minutes before she picked up a letter opener and slit the top.

When she turned it up a mass of letters, keys, address cards and a checkbook came tumbling out. Last to flutter down were several pages neatly typed on the computer and stapled together. Auggie had initialed each sheet. Annie took time to make a cup of hot tea and settled down to read. What she discovered was that August Anderson had opened his world to her.

There were individual letters to his banker, his lawyer and his real estate manager that instructed them to give her full and total cooperation and access to any and all of his assets. Each letter was signed and notarized. The keys opened his safe and an attached note advised her to take the $50,000. in U.S. currency she would find there and use it to meet any immediate needs. The checkbook allowed her to draw on his account with her own signature once the included authorization letter had been taken in person to his banker.

Another key was taped to a sealed envelope. The note on the envelope advised her that it opened his safe house. The address was in the sealed envelope. If she found herself in need of a totally secure hideout, she was to open the envelope and go to the address she would find inside. Annie determined she would never open that one. It would cause endless trouble for Auggie if she did.

The address cards told her where to find the people she might need and included phone numbers and some indication of the sort of help each might provide. She was surprised to find one for a Carlton (Cotton) Hobbs. Auggie had mentioned Cotton a few times in connection to her rescue from Mexico and as an old friend. The card identified him as a former Special Forces sergeant now operating as a mercenary. 'If you need support in force – this means guns and fighting men – call Cotton,' the note told her. 'Expect to pay him.'

She might well need that sort of help, she thought, but first she had to locate Auggie. It was clear she couldn't expect any help from the Agency. First she had better get use of the checkbook authorized so she could pay the monthly bills that were still scattered on the kitchen table. She quickly repaired her looks and set off for Auggie's bank.

When she presented the letter of authorization, she was conducted to the desk of Auggie's personal banker. He was a man a few years older than Auggie with the plain vanilla name of James J. Smith. Thick chestnut hair just beginning to be shot with gray topped a round, kind face with a warm smile. He shook hands with Annie and invited her to be seated. When she handed him Auggie's sealed letter, he opened it calmly and begged her pardon for his inattention while he read it through carefully. He didn't seem too surprised by its contents.

"Ms Walker," he said, "you are just as Auggie described you. He made it clear that you have his complete faith and trust. I intend no offense, but I feel I must make one thing clear as well. I've known August Anderson for several years now, and I regard him as a true American hero. I know he would laugh at that description, but it just makes me more determined to see that he is never taken advantage of, if I can help it."

Annie gave him one of her lovely smiles. "Mr. Smith, Auggie is lucky to have a friend like you, and the only reason I'm here is that Auggie has vanished, and I'm afraid he's in serious trouble. I'm going to do my best to find him and bring him home."

She told the shocked and alarmed banker what she could of Auggie's disappearance, and assured him she would keep him posted on any developments.

He made profuse and sincere offers of help and authorized her use of the checkbook. She had no doubt he would scrutinize all expenditures to be sure she wasn't wasting Auggie's money.

On the way home, Annie bought food and household items like paper towels and electronics dusting spray from a list Auggie had begun before he went out on Saturday. Once in the apartment, she put away her purchases and busied herself cleaning up the mess she had made. That finished, she took the bills for phone, utilities, internet service and other items to her desk and paid them all in full. She made careful notations, both on the checks, and in the checkbook as to what each withdrawal represented.

The sun was setting by the time she finished. At a loss for what else to do, she prepared a simple meal for herself, and watched the news on the TV they had recently purchased. She had been surprised how much Auggie could follow just from the dialogue and sound effects, but there were time when she needed to describe the visual action as well. Tonight's news offered no clue as to his whereabouts.

Lonely and in need of a friendly voice, she called Danielle and poured out her heart to her sister. Danielle was sympathetic and supportive, but had no notion how to find Auggie. Before she could begin to sob again, Annie said goodnight and prepared for bed – sleep was another matter entirely.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Thursday started early for Auggie. Jakob and another man arrived before he finished harvesting what moisture he could from the morning dew. A half bottle of water and a dry biscuit was pushed under the cage door. Auggie drank the water at once. "It's not enough, you know," he said. "If you continue to keep me so short on water in this heat, soon I won't be able to talk at all."

"I'll talk with Mr. Mercer," Jakob said. "But he wants you now. He believes you do know where that Afghan fortress is located."

Auggie sighed. "I'm afraid he's going to be sorely disappointed. After yesterday, I'd have told you if I knew. Ben says he wants to get me disavowed by my employer. I tried to give him the biggest clandestine op I know anything about. Why would I hold back one detail? I don't like it here. I really don't get off on torture – either giving or receiving. So they dump me." He shrugged. "I've thought of quitting anyway. There's a lot more money to be made on the outside with my skills." He needed to maintain the fiction of a somewhat disgruntled employee.

"I'm inclined to believe you," Jakob said. "But it's my employer you need to convince. Do you come willingly or must we come in and drag you?"

"Let me save this," Auggie held up the biscuit, "and I won't fight you." He needed to keep his strength for more important moments. He shuffled to 'his tree,' wrapped the bit of bread in a large leaf and placed it in a crotch of the tree as high up as he could. He hoped ants or other insects didn't get into it, but he would eat it either way.

The interrogation began much as it had the previous day. Mercer demanded more information, and Auggie backed and filled, stalled and stretched. Occasionally he dropped in another intriguing and imaginary detail.

After an hour of back and forth, Ben Mercer lost his patience. "Damnit Anderson; just where is this mighty fortress located? Spit it out!"

"For about the hundredth time, I don't know! You must have contacts in that area. Have them check, look for signs of construction materials being slipped across the border, technicians being brought in."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to reach people in the mountains of Afghanistan and China – and from this God forsaken island?"

Actually, Auggie did. It was one of the things he was counting on to buy him time.

Ben's voice had risen to a shout again, and Auggie braced himself for a blow. Instead large, strong hands were clamped around his throat and pressure applied. His breath was immediately cut off, and the blood flow to his brain restricted. Auggie was tied to the chair as before, but he thrashed hard. If he could throw himself over, he could rip his throat from Ben's crushing hands. His lungs burned and screamed for air. He knew his vision, if he had any, would be tunneling. He threw his body weight from side to side, but Mercer was relentless.

Consciousness was going, and Auggie's struggles became weaker. Jakob intervened. He gripped Mercer's arm firmly. "If you kill him, we will learn nothing more. Let him breathe!"

Gradually Mercer loosened his grip and let his hands fall away. Auggie sagged against his ropes. Air came in great, sobbing gasps through a throat that burned and throbbed.

Mercer jerked away and swore. "I can't stand this bastard. He talks and talks and tells us nothing. You," he pointed at Jakob, "take over. Try to get something useful out of him. If I stay here, I'll kill him and blow the whole deal. Maybe I will anyway." His footsteps pounded across the floor and the door slammed.

"Just as well," Jakob said in his quiet, unemotional voice. "We'll get more done without him, I suspect."

Auggie felt an internal shiver. This was almost the worst part. To know he was to be tortured, but unable to see the preparations, to have no idea what to expect. All he could do was breathe slow and deep and wait.

Jakob called in an assistant whose step Auggie didn't recognize. His hands were released from the chair and his shirt jerked off. Then his hands were re-bound in front of him in handcuffs made of thick leather straps with a soft lining. Apparently Jakob was still bound by the order not to scar him permanently. His legs were untied, and he was pulled to his feet and tugged a few paces across the room. He felt something pass between his bound hands and was abruptly hauled up until his arms were stretched far above his head and only the tips of his toes touched the floor.

_Now it really begins,_ ran through his mind. _Grant me the strength to endure – all things end – survive one minute at a time. _Being hung up like this was a common torture position and a bad one. His once-broken shoulder already felt the strain. His lungs were constricted. It would get harder and harder to get enough air as time went along.

Out of the blue, Jakob spoke to him. "I am going to describe what I will be doing. Perhaps it will be more effective if you have some time to contemplate it. We will see."

Auggie heard an almost musical sound as something was struck.

"I have here several strips of narrow, flexible bamboo. You will be struck with them. They rarely break the skin, but the pain is sharp and intense. It is a form of bastinado, but it will be applied more generally than just to the soles of your feet. I have been cautioned that I may not cripple you, but, please, don't think it won't hurt."

Auggie knew damned well that it would hurt. If struck often enough in the same spot permanent nerve damage could result.

"Think on it for a bit," Jakob continued. "Perhaps you will realize you have something else to tell me."

Auggie shook his head. "Can't say what I don't know."

Jakob said nothing more and moved away. Auggie hung. He tried to sway a bit and take weight on his toes to ease his shoulders, and he listened. After what seemed a long while, he heard very soft movement and then the hiss as a bamboo strip cut the air. It gave him a split second to prepare.

Pain blazed across the scars on his left shoulder, and a grunt burst from his throat. A half dozen more hits came hard and fast in the same area and just as suddenly stopped.

"Old injuries are always a weak point," Jakob said in his usual bland, flat tone. "Iraq?"

Auggie grunted.

"You had a good surgeon, beautiful work. Perhaps you have some coordinates for me, now?

"Wish to hell I did."

"Tsk," Jakob clicked his tongue. "Then we must go on."

The beating went on and on until blood ran down Auggie's back from two cuts that had opened over his spine, his legs quivered and the bottoms of his feet screamed in agony. He was barely conscious when they took him down.

He sprawled on the floor until familiar footsteps approached. It was James.

"He can't walk," Jakob told the big man. "Carry him or drag him as you like."

Much to Auggie's surprise, James squatted down and lifted him gently into his massive arms. He carried him with careful steps back to the cage and put him down under the tree.

"Thanks," Auggie managed to get out. If he had the chance to make a friend, he had to use it.

"Can you talk?" James asked.

"Try. Water?"

Auggie could sense the hesitation, but there was a rustle of clothing and an open water bottle was pressed into his hand.

"Drink quick, before they see."

"K." Auggie tipped up the bottle and let some of the precious fluid slip down his bruised throat. As the moisture penetrated, he could drink more quickly but stopped at about half the bottle. Too much too quickly and he would throw it up. He offered the bottle back and heard it being capped and tucked away.

"Your tattoo," James said, "it is from your country's Special Forces, yes? Like our KSK?"

Surprised, but game to play along, Auggie answered. "Yes, like the German Kommando Spezialkrafte. It's a tough outfit; based on the British SAS training methods."

"Ya, I was 4th Platoon. We were in Afghanistan for six months. We worked some with men like you."

_The comradeship of men at arms, _Auggie thought. _I can use a friend. Have to be careful they don't catch on._

"And I heard some good things about what the KSK did there," Auggie told James. "I was in Afghanistan for a short while, then sent to Iraq. We had a tight unit, until someone we trusted betrayed us. That's when this happened," he passed his hand across his eyes, "and I was the lucky one."

"What they do to you here is wrong," James said. "Not the way men fight."

"Thanks, the water means a lot, but don't take the chance of getting in trouble over me. Mercer is one ruthless s.o.b. You should leave before someone notices."

"Ya. First …"

Auggie heard water running behind the cage_. There must be an outlet there they used for the animals – out of sight and out of reach – shit!_

His soaking wet shirt was draped over his back.

"Maybe it helps," James said and was gone.

The cold was bliss. It soothed the savage burning and calmed a thousand tortured nerve endings. Before all the water could evaporate, Auggie wrapped his feet in the moist coolness. True to his word, Jakob hadn't crippled him. By tomorrow he would be able to walk, but it would hurt.

It was long after the cool of darkness had come when new footsteps approached his cage. The usual plate of table scraps and a small water bottle were carelessly shoved under the gate, and the footsteps retreated without a word spoken. Auggie crawled to the gate and claimed the water. He hurt so much his stomach rejected the thought of food, but he forced down a few cubes of beef from what was probably chili and an almost whole slice of bread and butter.

In the night it rained. Auggie struggled to stand on legs that trembled and held a water bottle at the tip of one of the large leaves on his tree. The bottle was three quarters full by the time the quick tropical storm had passed. The water was a gift, and the pounding rain had washed away some of the dirt and blood from his body, but he was left wet and exposed to the night breeze. He was glad when he felt the first warm rays of morning sun, but he had survived in better shape than he had first thought possible. His trust in Annie hadn't wavered, but she must be having trouble finding him. He began to give some thought to escape. He would have to do it while he still had the strength.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The morning found Annie searching for some way to trace Auggie's location. She re-read his long note more carefully this time. She found that he asked her not to alarm his family until she had something definite to tell them. They were accustomed to long periods without contact and shouldn't be worried.

She went through his safe carefully. The cash he had described was there ready for her use. In addition, there were other currencies, code books, an assortment of passports and travel documents, material in Braille that she couldn't interpret, and his Purple Heart along with his Combat Infantryman's Badge and old Captain's bars. There was a KA-BAR fighting knife, a switchblade and a blackjack, and to her surprise, a Strayer-Voight Infinity .40 caliber pistol with a 20 round magazine.

Out of curiosity, Annie had asked about blind shooting, when she went for her advanced firearms training. The instructor had told her that shooting at sound was possible. The partially sighted often did very well at it, but it was always risky for someone as completely blind as Auggie. Sound could be deflected and misleading. The closer the range the better in his case.

She opened his computer and searched for any clue to his whereabouts. There was a mass of technical information and specifications that she could barely identify much less understand and programs that she had no idea what they did. There was correspondence with friends and specialists in a variety of disciplines, but nothing that suggested they might have swept him up off a public street and hidden him away. There were no pictures saved on his computer, but there was a lot of music. In the end she gave up.

Unable to stay still, she cleaned and straightened, dealt with the laundry and carefully hung Auggie's things back into his strictly organized closet, where Braille labels identified areas by color and type of garment. When she found herself stroking a bathrobe that still carried his scent, she flung it away and paced the length of the two conjoined apartments using anger to fight back tears.

It was late afternoon when the phone rang. She snatched it up.

"Hello, hello?" Could it be Auggie; what news might it bring?

"Hello" said a tentative male voice. Is Miss Annie Walker there?"

"Speaking. Who is this?" He sounded young and unsure.

"Miss Annie, this is Shane Northman. You met me a few weeks ago at Auggie's computer club meeting in the loft over CircuitCi…"

"Yes, Shane, I remember you." The face of a self-possessed young man just maturing into his full manhood came to mind. "You're the club president. What can I do for you?"

"Miss Annie, Auggie missed our last meeting, and some things here have us worried. He usually lets us know if he can't make it. Is he okay?"

Annie hesitated – how much could she tell these young people? Yet, they might be able to help find Auggie. "Shane, I don't know if he's okay or even where he is. Auggie has been missing since sometime last Saturday. I can't find anyone who knows where he is. Do any of you know anything that might help?"

There was silence for a few moments then Shane said, "Could Evie and I come over tonight? I don't want to alarm you, but there's something I think you ought to see."

It didn't sound good, but anything, any lead would help. "Yes, come as soon as you can. You know where we live, right?"

"You're at Auggie's apartment where the club first met?

"Yes, when can I expect you?"

"Evie doesn't get off work until 7:00 p.m. We'll be over about a half-hour later, if that's okay?"

"That will be fine, and thank you for calling, Shane. Thank you for caring. We have to find him." Annie's voice threatened to break.

"We will, Miss Annie, don't you worry." She knew Shane wanted to offer comfort and assurances, but there was so much he didn't know – couldn't know.

They broke the connection after a few more words. Annie took a deep breath and tried to remember as much as she could about the night she visited Auggie's computer geeks club.

Evie, she recalled, was Evening Star Gomez. A young woman of 21 who had rebelled against her hippy parents by diving deep into computer science and going Goth. She was scary smart and very intense. Shane had a calm, confident personality that would serve him well in life. She seemed to remember he was studying Economics at George Washington University.

They were coming at 7:30 p.m. Evie would come direct from her job. They were kids; they would be hungry. Annie snatched up her bag and ran down the stairs to the lobby – anything to burn the nervous energy that was driving her to do something; if she only knew what? She headed on down the block to Mr. Moretti's deli. She ordered three of his crab-stuffed artichokes and a pizza with everything to be delivered just as the kids were due. Auggie had a six pack of beer from his favorite micro brewery in the fridge. That would do for drinks.

Home and back up the steps. She re-arranged the room twice, got out china and then changed it for paper plates. She finally managed to relax for a few minutes in a warm shower and was dressed comfortably in slacks and a soft cotton sweater when the doorbell rang. It was the delivery from Moretti's. Shane and Evie arrived only a few second behind their meal.

Once they were settled with plates of food and cold beer, Annie looked from one to the other with both excitement and anxiety in her expression.

"Shane, you had something to show me?"

With some reluctance, Shane reached for the large shopping bag he had brought in with him. "I hate to pull these out, Miss Annie," he said. "It's gonna upset you, I know, but we found these in the club room."

"Get it over with please. Anything that might give me even a hint about how and where to look for Auggie will help."

Shane slowly removed jeans, a blue-checked shirt and a leather jacket from the bag. Last was a pair of low cut boots with the socks stuffed inside them. Annie touched everything hesitantly, ran her hands over them, felt in the pockets. There was a clean handkerchief in one jeans pocket, and blood on the right sleeve of the shirt.

"These are Auggie's." Annie's voice trembled.

"I knew they were," Evie sounded on the verge of tears.

"And these too," Shane said as he removed a wallet and watch from the bottom of the bag. "There's no money in the wallet," he said as Annie took it from his outstretched hand. But Auggie's ID and credit cards, 'en stuff are still there, and we've all seen him open this watch and check the time. Not a lot like this one around."

"What happened!" Evie burst out. "Where is he, and why is there blood on his shirt? We're all worried crazy!"

"I don't know where he is," Annie said. "I do have good evidence that he was kidnapped off the street not far from here late Saturday afternoon. No one has seen or heard from him since." Annie went on to tell them everything that she could about Auggie's disappearance.

When she finished there was dead silence for a few moments. Then Evie said, "The blood, Annie, what about the blood?"

Annie picked up the familiar blue-checked shirt and looked at the bloodstain. It was a streak of rusty red that looked as if the shirt had been used to wipe off a small cut; it wasn't a dangerous loss. "Were there bloodstains anywhere else in your loft," she asked.

"No," Shane said. We searched pretty well. Some of the furniture was shifted, and all the cookies we had in a box were eaten. I believe that whoever took Auggie knew about the loft and used his keys to open up. They were there for some time, and they did something to Auggie that made him bleed. It would take a DNA test to prove that, of course."

Annie nodded. "I think you have it about right. I know a private lab that can test the blood, if we need it."

Trained to analyze and interpret, Annie's mind raced. They had stripped Auggie down to his underwear, even his shoes. Why? And all his things were there, except his money, and his …. **His keys! **God, they had gotten into the club loft, they could have gotten into this apartment, his locker at work, so many things. She had to let the agency know!

"Annie? Annie!" Shane was speaking to her. She brought her attention back into the moment.

"Yes, Shane?"

"What should we do now? What's next? We all want to help find him."

"When is the next club meeting?"

"This Saturday night – we've call an emergency meeting – at 7:00 p.m., in the loft. We've alerted everybody; they'll all be there."

"Good. I want to come. I have some checking to do first, but it might help to consider different search plans."

"Of course. Come, we want you," Evie said.

There was more discussion as the food was finished and goodnights said, but soon Annie was once more alone in the apartment.

With Auggie's keys gone, she didn't feel safe. She shot the bolts on the door and tipped a chair against it with several metal pot lids on the seat. Her chin was firmly set and her lips formed a straight, tight line as she prepared for bed. Her pistol rested on the night table; any intruder would regret it.

She planned to be at Langley as soon as the doors opened in the morning. She would slam the bag full of Auggie's things on Joan's desk and demand answers.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Oh my Lord," she said half-aloud. "No shoes." Her fingers brushed the low boots. "And it's so cold out." The calm mask broke and twisted with anguish.

It wasn't the response Annie had expected when she spread Auggie's clothes across Joan's desk, but it cooled her anger, made it possible to speak reasonably. Once Annie had explained the clothes and told Joan everything she had learned about Auggie's disappearance, Joan asked Annie to wait, scooped up the bloodstained shirt and walked directly to Arthur's office.

She recounted it all: what Stu had found at the apartment, the doorman's evidence, what Evelyn from Priceless Pearls had seen, and the personal effects abandoned in the Computer Club's loft. She held up the bloody shirtsleeve and demanded answers.

"Why, Arthur, if he went peacefully to meet some challenge to his loyalty as you implied, why would he be stripped naked and where did the blood come from? I don't know what sort of game you are running here, but I want my head tech back. Where is Auggie?"

"One minute." Arthur held up his hand and picked up the phone. "Send the technician monitoring Anderson's RFID up here immediately," he said into the phone. "We'll know in a minute exactly where he is," the Director assured his wife.

The technician, a very young woman with serious round glasses and tightly pulled back hair, arrived panting within minutes. She clutched a log book tightly in small, nail-bitten fingers and shivered as she stood before Arthur and Joan. "Sir? Ma'am?" Her voice trembled.

Arthur spoke to her calmly. "We need to know Mr. Anderson's whereabouts. Where is he located at the moment?"

"He's in his apartment, sir."

Joan's expression grew grimmer. "Annie's just come from there. He hasn't been in his apartment since Saturday afternoon."

"He has to be," the girl said. "I thought he was ill, or restricted to quarters, or … or something."

Arthur pointed to the log book in her hand. "Let's review. Start with Saturday morning and work forward, please."

The girl opened the book and leafed well into the center. "He was in his apartment until 1:35 p.m. this past Saturday. He left and appears to have been walking for several blocks. He made two stops along the way. Then he got into a vehicle and went to the building that has been identified to me as a computer store. He was there until 7:48 p.m. He then left the computer store, entered a vehicle and returned to his apartment. He has been there since 8:32 Saturday night."

"I see," Arthur told her. "And, no one assigned to follow Mr. Anderson's whereabouts thought this was odd behavior? You didn't wonder why he wasn't coming to work or even going out for a meal?"

"We did, sir, but the only instruction we were given was to report if he left the country. We talked about it, but decided maybe he was on house arrest or something. Nobody told us why we were watching Mr. Anderson."

Joan snorted delicately through her nose.

"Thank you. You may return to your section," Arthur dismissed the unfortunate girl.

"Well, well, the best laid plans, eh." Joan's tone could have frosted racks of mint julep glasses.

"Joan, "I'm sorry. This is a mess. I'll send a forensics team to search Auggie's apartment immediately and another to the computer club's loft to see if they can lift any prints or anything helpful. We'll find him."

Annie returned to the apartment with the search team. Armed with a tracker instrument they quickly found the tiny transmitter, smeared with Auggie's dry blood, taped to the underside of the bed frame. There was no doubt that some intruder had been in the apartment. A call to Joan resulted in immediate approval of a change of locks. Annie waited with an armed security guard until the work was completed.

When the last workman, along with the security guard, cleared out, Annie shut the heavy door, set the new locks, dropped the keys on the table and collapsed in the nearest chair. The Agency had finally admitted that something untoward had happened to Auggie, but they had no more idea where he was than she did.

_Hang in here faithful reader, just like our Auggie. I'm working as fast as I can, but real life keeps happening. Part II is coming soon._


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_I will state once again for the record that I have neither ownership of nor any connection with U.S.A. Network's outstanding series "Covert Affairs." I do think it's the best show on TV and send my undying thanks to the producers, writers and talented actors who create it._

_My thanks to those readers who have hung in with me on this long journey. Beginning with this Chapter 21, I will be posting the rest of the second part of the "Blind" trilogy – composed of "Blind Ambition," "Blind Faith" and yet to come "Blind Justice."_

_My most sincere thanks to the two best beta readers in the world: call2wrshp and Martha G. They keep me on track and readable. And I send kudos and heartfelt thanks to fbobs, who is a technical wizard._

They didn't come for Auggie at the usual time on what he judged to be Saturday morning. He had time to dry his clothes and doze for a bit in the early warmth. But there was no breakfast either, and worst of all, no morning bottle of water. Thirst was a constant, nagging, insistent need. His lips were cracked and painful, and his tongue felt swollen to almost double its normal size. He was forced to sip almost half of what he had captured in the night.

When they did come it wasn't gently. The cage door was thrown open and two men grabbed him roughly under the arms. An unfamiliar voice informed him that he had a cattle prod in hand and was more than willing to use it. Well aware that a daylight fight against such odds was useless, Auggie went limp and let them drag him to the interrogation room.

He expected to be tied again, but he was barely through the door when Mercer sprang at him, clamped both hands around his throat and shook him. "Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! There's not a word of truth in that fairy tale you have been spinning us." His hands tightened; air and blood flow were cut off, and Auggie's already bruised throat felt as if it were being crushed like a plastic straw.

"There's nothing going on in the Hindu Kush; there's no presence in Tajikistan. The Chinese think we're crazy. You've made me look like a fool! And, God help me, I almost believed you." He was shaken hard; then Jakob was there to pry Mercer's hands away, finger by finger.

Auggie dropped to his knees, gasped and drew in air in great, sobbing breaths. When he could, he turned to face the spot where he heard Mercer's muttered curses. He forced a smile. "Had you going for a while, huh?"

There was a brief scuffle as Jakob stepped in front of Auggie to stop Mercer's charge. "Must I remind you once again that dead men tell no tales – true or otherwise? You do more harm than good. Leave him to me."

"You'd better get some truth out of him and damned quick. I'm running out of time and patience both," Mercer said.

When he left, Jakob had Auggie tied once again in his chair. "It is very unwise of you to taunt Herr Mercer," he told Auggie in his usual calm and patient tone. "He is not a man who likes to appear foolish, and he has very little tolerance for those he dislikes. He seems to hold some particular grudge against you. The time is close when you must tell us something he can use, or I can't guarantee your safety."

Auggie tried to laugh, but it emerged more as a croak. The idea of his torturer as the guardian of his safety was ludicrous. He had known this was coming. Only the difficulty of communication over the vast distances and into the remote regions involved had made the story hold up as long as it had. He had other scenarios prepared, but he couldn't appear to give them up easily. He had some punishment coming. Maybe he could stall for a while first.

"It's over a woman," he forced from his damaged throat. "All this because the woman he wants chose me."

"What? What are you saying? I don't understand."

Lucky. He had caught Jakob's interest. "I'm just a computer geek. I keep a lot of very expensive equipment running. I get bugs out of the programs and watch for hackers. I don't know any big secrets. Do you really believe they'd take a blind guy into their inner circles?"

If he could make Jakob believe he was very low on the Agency's totem pole and that Mercer had personal reasons for persecuting him, he might win some sympathy. "Mr. Mercer has a thing for beautiful blonde women. His eye fell on one lady who works in my section. They had a brief fling, but then he went off with no explanation and abandoned her – in fact, he did it twice. I expect you know this is not the way to woo a woman. I offered comfort and security. She turned to me. He just can't accept it and move on. It's the reason for this whole thing." And that was the truth if nothing else was.

"I see," Jakob said presently. "And, Auggie, my friend, I suspect you are a far more pleasant companion than our Herr Mercer. He can be difficult."

"Why do you work for him then?"

"Ach, our mutual employer, Klaus, suggested that I assist him with this mission, and one doesn't often refuse Klaus. Besides, the pay is good."

"If it's a question of money," Auggie said, "I'm not without some funds. I might be able to make it worth your while to change sides?"

Jakob sighed. "Tempting, I don't enjoy the heat and humidity here. I would like to go home. But, I have found that once one takes the money and agrees to the work it is best to remain with the first employer. It is harder than it might appear to leave Klaus."

It had been a faint hope, but it had been worth a try. "I hear you, but think about it. My people could work out some sort of protection deal with you, I believe."

"I will keep it in mind, Auggie, but for now you must find some item of useful information to satisfy Herr Mercer. I don't believe he will be so easily taken in again. You are cleverer than he thought."

"I only made it up because I don't know anything worth telling. I wish you'd believe me!" Auggie said it with all the sincerity he could put into his voice.

"It's not a question of my belief, but of his. You leave me no choice except to continue."

Auggie fell silent and began to compose his mind to endure. He breathed deeply and sank far inside. He withdrew from his body and tried to center on all the strong and good things in his life: on his complete belief that Annie would come. It had been quiet for some time when suddenly he heard a soft pop and a fizzing noise.

His whole chair was thrust far back and some frothy, foaming liquid poured up his nose. Instantly his sinuses and breathing passages were on fire. Another splash of the stuff and a horrible, sickly-sweet liquid trickled down to burn through his sore throat. The pain was incredible. It jerked him back from any meditative state. It felt like the top of his head was about to blow off. A third dose flooded his face, filled his mouth, ran up his nose and forced its way under his tightly closed eyelids.

Sheer, hard will power prevented an instinctive gasp that would have sucked it into his lungs. Instead, he blew out as hard as he could. It let him get a soggy breath, but did nothing to relieve the unbelievable burning. His chair was jerked upright, and he bent as far forward as he could to gag and vomit. He clenched his teeth and waited. It felt like an eternity before the worst of the pain subsided.

"My God, what was that?" he got out when he could.

"Jakob chuckled. "Only a can of one of your most popular fizzy sodas. Would you like another? I have plenty here."

"No, no more." Tears flooded from the burn of the soda in his eyes. Let Jakob make of them what he would.

"Then you must tell me something useful."

"Can't – don't know."

There was a pop and his chair was yanked back again.

Auggie endured the ghastly treatment three times before he produced his next red herring. He told them of a deep cover agent placed some 6 years ago in a sensitive position with the Palestinian secret police. The agent actually existed, but he worked for Iran not the U.S. His cover was excellent, and he was highly regarded by the country he had infiltrated. The C.I.A. had only learned of his existence by accident. It didn't hurt that Iran was notoriously close mouthed and rarely gave up information on any of its operatives. It would take time to check.

Auggie was dragged back to the cage and dumped. Still in pain, he crawled into a patch of shade and collapsed. He was huddled there when James brought his plate of leavings for supper.

When Auggie didn't stir, the big man let himself into the cage and came to his side. "I heard it was very bad today," he said. "I'm sorry. It is wrong. I don't want to be a part of this." He patted Auggie gently on the back. "Come, you must eat to keep up your strength. I brought extra water," he whispered.

Auggie rolled over and sat up. "Water?" It was the true nectar of the gods.

A bottle of cold, clean, fresh water was pressed into his hand. "There is another after this," James said.

Auggie opened the precious liquid and drank slowly. It was the most marvelous thing he had ever tasted. The cold numbed the pain in his throat and the nasty taste was flushed away. He used the dregs to wash out his still stinging eyes. He drank only about a third of the second bottle. It was far too precious to consume all at once.

"Better?" James asked. Auggie nodded. "Then try to eat. I pick good for you tonight."

And he had. There was a whole leg of fried chicken, rice with gravy and cooked carrots. James had even snagged a slice of peach pie. Auggie took it gratefully.

It was their habit to shove the tin dinner plate under the door and come back later to demand he return it in the same manner. They apparently thought he could contrive a weapon of some sort if they left it in his hands, and he could, but there was never enough time for the work involved. He had tried their resolve by refusing to bring it to the door on his second night in the cage.

The man sent to pick up the plate left and returned shortly with help. Auggie was held by two men and slapped and punched by a third until he was bleeding and groggy. Since then he had shoved the plate back under the door as soon as he had eaten what he could of their swill.

"Tonight," he told James, "send somebody else for the plate; not you." It was a risk to reveal so much of his plan to the enemy, but James has shown him a soldier's sympathy, and he had to get away. Today had been hell. Much more and both his strength and will would begin to fail. He had decided to take the chance.

Auggie wasn't a fool. He knew he was on an island and that recapture was almost inevitable, but if he could stay free for a day or two, it would give Annie more time to find him, and provide a break from the daily routine of torture.

James looked thoughtful as he took back the empty water bottle. _Would he tell Mercer – give it all away?_

"Ya," he said. "Someone not so big as me, okay?"

Auggie smiled and nodded.

"Viel Glück!" James said. He tucked the extra water bottle out of sight and left, careful to lock the cage behind him.

The warmth of the sun had long gone and the night sounds and breezes had played around Auggie for some time when he heard footsteps approach.

"Bring the plate, prisoner," a light voice he had heard once or twice before demanded.

Auggie pulled himself half erect and began a slow drag toward the door with the plate clutched in one hand. Half way there he faltered, groaned, stopped, then collapsed on his face with the plate at his side.

He neither stirred nor responded to the repeated yells and curses from the door. In time he heard the locks open, and steps reached his side. The man bent to take the plate, and Auggie's arm snaked around his neck. Before he could shout, the grip clamped his windpipe shut and his legs were kicked from under him.

Auggie's long legs locked around him in a scissors grip that immobilized his lower body, a big hand clamped over his nose and mouth and the pressure on his common carotid arteries increased. He soon ceased to struggle, and Auggie felt his body go limp.

Auggie held on for a few more seconds and then eased the pressure on his throat. He didn't want to kill the man. Death would enrage his captors and make the search more urgent and violent. He only wanted him unconscious for a few minutes.

He ripped off the belt from his unfortunate prisoner's waist, pulled his hands behind him, formed a loop in the belt and used it to tie him tightly to the tree. He used the light tee shirt the man wore to form a gag.

Auggie quickly checked his captive's feet. He would give most anything for a pair of good boots, but the man wore only ragged boat shoes that were far too small for Auggie's long, narrow feet. The only thing of use was a small pocket knife.

Time was limited; he would begin to wake up soon. Auggie took the knife, picked up his water bottles and ran for the jungle. He knew where the closest cover was: the birds and the rustling of the wind had told him. He lifted his bare feet high and brought them down with quick care. If he planned to stay mobile, he had to protect his feet.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Annie slept poorly. She was disturbed by dreams of Auggie caught in a current; he swam as hard as he could toward her but was dragged farther and farther away. She would wake suddenly – sure she had heard someone trying to break into the apartment. Twice she snatched her Colt Commander from the bedside table, jumped up, turned on all the lights and searched – only to find herself alone and the building quiet.

A gray dawn ushered in Friday; she would come to remember it as one of the most frustrating days of her life.

She gave up on any attempt to sleep, got up early and took a long shower. She had just dressed and had coffee perking when the doorbell rang. It proved to be Beauford, the building's daytime doorman and Auggie's friend.

"Miss Annie," he said, his doorman's jaunty cap in hand, "is there any news of Mr. Anderson?" His normally round and happy face was twisted with distress. "I'm awful sorry to bother you, but I just have to know?"

"Come in." Annie pulled the door open. "You're no bother. I just made coffee. Do you have time for a cup?" She knew he was fond of Auggie. Until Annie became his regular driver, he would refuse to let Auggie go out to jump on his usual bus to work if the sidewalks were icy or the rain was heavy. Auggie often laughed that Beauford would literally block the door and insist he call the Agency for a car.

"I have a few minutes," he told her, "and coffee would be good. The building manager came by; I asked him to spell me for a short break so I could talk to you. Do you know anything more about Mr. Anderson?"

Beauford came in and walked to the counter. Annie poured him a mug of coffee and offered cream and sugar. He heaped in three spoonfuls of sugar and stirred vigorously.

"I don't have a lot more to tell you," Annie said. We're pretty sure he was abducted right off the street not far from here, but who they were or where they took him …" Annie shook her head. "It's still being investigated."

Annie had to be careful of how much she said. Beauford thought Auggie worked for a private security firm, and it was important to maintain that fiction.

"Has there been a ransom demand?" Beauford obviously watched a lot of detective TV.

"No, not so far. Can you go over that Saturday afternoon again for me? How did Auggie seem; was he worried; did he say anything to you?"

"He seemed just fine, Miss Annie. He was smiling and stopped to tell me a good joke he'd just heard. Reckon you'd say he was in high spirits. He even said he was going to get a little surprise for you."

Annie realized Auggie must have meant the pearl necklace, but she preferred to keep that to herself. Had his anticipated pleasure in her surprise and delight put him off guard? Was it her fault he'd been taken? She wanted to run, hit something, do anything but wait!

"Well, I can see you're mighty upset too, Miss Annie." Beauford broke into her thoughts, and she realized she'd been frowning at him. "I should get back to work."

Annie reached across the counter and rested her hand atop his. Somewhere she found a smile. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm just so worried. I know you've always been good to Auggie, and I appreciate it. If I learn anything, I'll be sure to let you know."

Annie let him out and turned back to the kitchen. She was too upset to eat but knew she should. Eventually she settled on toast and orange juice and managed to get it down. Frantic for something to do, she washed the dishes, cleaned the stove, including the oven, and made out a grocery list.

Having managed to fill a good 40 minutes, she decided to tackle Auggie's computer again. She had heard him work with it many times, and by imitating his voice as closely as she could, she got it to accept her voice commands. She went through much of what she had examined before.

She took time to read his recent email to family members more closely. She felt like a sneak and an intruder, but beyond a few glowing references to herself –that made her feel even worse – she found nothing that shed any light on his disappearance.

She was about to change clothes and go out for a run when Joan called. The results of the search of the computer club's loft were back, and Joan wanted her to come in to go over them. Annie pulled the Corvette out of the apartment building's garage five minutes after she hung up.

When she got to the DPD facility, Stu stood outside Auggie's office to intercept her. "Joan wants you to go directly to her office. She's waiting for you," he told her. "And, Annie, don't forget, I want in, no matter what you have to do to get Auggie back." The sincerity in his voice and the intensity of his gaze told her that he honestly cared about his vanished boss. She felt a surge of warmth toward the sometimes clueless tech.

She rested her hand briefly on his forearm. "It might not be something the Agency authorizes, Stu. I'm beginning to think that the only way I'm going to get Auggie back is to find him myself. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"The hell with that noise," he said. "Count me in no matter how it goes down. I mean it!"

Just at that moment Joan stepped from her office, looked down and saw them. "Annie," she called. My office, right now!" With quick jerk of her head that brooked no delay, she disappeared back inside.

"Thanks, Stu. I'll remember what you said," Annie called over her shoulder as she hurried away.

Once inside, Joan pointed to the reports spread over her desk. "It took so long because there were prints all over the place. The technicians had to eliminate all of Auggie's geek squad and half the employees of the store before they could identify anything that shouldn't be there." She looked at Annie and frowned.

"There were two sets of strange prints that we have managed to identify as those of a pair of strong arm men who work for a gunrunner. He is known in the illegal firearms business only as Klaus. It's said he can provide anything from a .22 pistol to a cruise missile or a M198 howitzer as long as you have the cash to pay his price." Joan's eyes were icy cold, and two frown lines creased her smooth forehead. "I'm going to send a strong recommendation up the chain that we make a concerted effort to put Herr Klaus out of business."

"Why would gunrunners want to kidnap Auggie?" Annie was completely puzzled. "There's no connection, no connection at all."

"There was one other set of prints," Joan said slowly. "Unfortunately, they were not unknown to us, and there does seem to be a connection."

"Who?" Annie demanded. "Auggie thought for weeks that we were being watched, stalked. Who would do this to a blind man who no longer does field work? Whose prints do you have?"

"Ben Mercer's."

"Ben Mercer!" Annie sprang from her chair into a fighting crouch. Her usually sweet voice sank to a savage growl. "Ben Mercer! Damn his black heart to hell! If he's hurt Auggie, I'll rip his guts out and feed them to wild dogs." She looked around frantically in search of someone, something to attack.

"Easy, Annie, easy," Joan said. "I understand how you feel. I've never trusted Mercer the way Arthur did. However," and shards of crushed ice seemed to sprinkle her next words, "I believe he understands now just what a terrible thing he did when he agreed to let Mercer take Auggie."

Annie was all but inarticulate. How could their Director do that? "… gave permission," she stuttered. "He let… Ben Mercer … a rogue killer agent loose against a blind computer tech…oh dear God … Auggie!" She felt like her heart was shriveling within her. "We have to find him!"

"I know, Annie. I know," Joan told her. "Even as we speak, an urgent bulletin is being sent to all stations to maintain a watch for any trace of Auggie, Mercer, or either of the other two men we identified. We'll begin a check of airports, trains and busses immediately." She shook her head from side to side once. "If they drove out of town, it's probably hopeless. And, with the amount of time we've lost – memory fades fast in mass transportation workers."

Annie collapsed into a chair then straightened as an awful thought struck her. "Joan, he knows a lot – a lot about ongoing operations, even deep cover personnel!" She clutched a handful of her hair, twisted and pulled at it. "What if they torture him? Anybody, anybody breaks eventually. It would destroy him!" Tears started to stream down her face. "It has to be a nightmare. I can't believe this is happening."

A strange expression crossed Joan's face for a moment and then was instantly gone. "Go home, Annie," she said. "Be patient. Everything possible is being done. I'm sure we'll have news soon."

Annie gave her a look of sheer despair and arose to shuffle toward the door. Just before she reached it, Joan reached beneath her desk and flipped a switch. "Annie," she said.

Annie turned back to face her boss.

"I'll make this quick," Joan snapped, "and I will deny I ever said any more to you. This face off with Mercer was a supposedly clever plan that came from high up. Now, it's fallen disastrously apart. Sometimes those in power would rather bury their mistakes than own up to them. You and Auggie both have friends outside the Agency. Now might be the time to call on them. I'll do everything I can, but… Nod, once if you understand."

Annie controlled her face and nodded.

Joan flipped the switch back on. "Get some rest, Annie. We're all on your side."

"Thank you, Joan. Your words mean a great deal to me." She smiled a gently, savage smile and closed the door behind her.

On her way out she stopped for a moment at Stu's desk. "Did you mean what you said about helping if I needed it?" she asked softly.

"Absolutely, anything, any time."

"Then stay ready. I'll let you know." She quickly squeezed his shoulder and left the building.

That evening she called the number Auggie had left her for Cotton Hobbs. It rang three times and then an answering machine picked up.

"Howdy," a deep, southern drawl said. "Sorry I'm not to home jest now, but this here's the number for Cotton Hobbs. Leave a message and I'll git right back to ya."

Annie told the machine, "This is Annie Walker. I'm a friend of August Anderson. He's been kidnapped by someone who loathes him. He is probably being tortured. I need help. If you can give it, call me sooner rather than later." She gave her numbers and then hung up. Tomorrow she would meet with Auggie's geek squad. Until then she could only wait.

The persistent ringing of the phone woke her from a muddy, disturbed dream. She groped for it and, only half awake, asked, "Auggie?"

"No, ma'am," a deep, slow voice said. "Are you Miss Annie Walker? I think you called me. This is Cotton Hobbs; sorry if I woke you. Auggie is my old Captain and my friend. What can I do to help?"

Annie glanced at the clock; it showed 1:35 a.m. Hobbs must have just received her message and was concerned enough to call right back. She collected her thoughts and cleared her throat.

"Mr. Hobbs, I'm glad you called." She took a deep breath. "As I said, Auggie's in terrible trouble." From what Auggie had told her of Cotton, she thought he must have a very good idea of the kind of work Auggie did. "I can't say too much on an open line, but I'm convinced my best help will come from friends like you. Auggie left me some guidelines for dealing with this sort of situation, and you were at the top of his list. Can you come to Washington; will you help me? There's money to pay all fees and expenses." She waited as the line hummed.

"Like I said, ma'am, Auggie's my friend. We can talk about money later if we have to. Right now, just tell me where you are, and I'll be there 'fore you know it."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

With escape from the cage a reality, Auggie had several goals in mind besides evading capture for as long as possible. He needed to find a long, straight, strong limb or branch to replace his cane. He needed to improvise some sort of protection for his feet, and he needed to find someplace where he could hide during the day when the search for him would likely be most intense.

He also wanted to get an idea of the size of the key and the resources it provided. A source of fresh water would be great, but he knew the chance of finding a natural spring was small. The owners of the island had apparently done some planting of non-native species as his own banana tree and the smell of rotting guavas around the house had informed him.

First he wanted to get as far away from the house as possible before somebody missed the man he had tied up in the cage. He moved carefully through several rows of bananas, breaking off a large leaf here and there. He bundled them together and tucked them into his waistband. He had several uses for them once he was safely hidden.

Beyond the banana plants he came upon a row of tall, stalked plants. He ran his hand up one stalk to discover a bunch of long, thick leaves with a strong central rib growing from the very top. He recognized Ti plants after a moment's thought. A vacation in Hawaii had taught him that hula skirts and several useful items could be made from this plant. He quickly decided it was worth the time to get a couple out of the ground. The stalk of one of the taller ones would make an ideal cane, the leaves would be useful, and he could drag another behind him to eliminate tracks.

The sandy soil released two plants taken some distance apart. Auggie smoothed the dirt back into place and used the small jackknife to cut the leaf bunch from the head of the longest stem. He added the leaves to his bundle, shaved off the root, and he had his cane. The other plant he tied into the tail of his shirt, leafy head down, so that it dragged behind him to blur his tracks. He then set off to try for the shoreline.

Behind the Ti leaves he encountered some palm tree trunks. He didn't take time to explore if there might be coconuts on the ground, but kept moving. The plantings soon gave way to slash pine and some rough, many branched and wind bent trees that he would later learn were buttonwoods.

After what he judged to be roughly two hours of carefully making his way through undergrowth and vegetation of all sorts, he stepped out onto smooth sand and the smell of the ocean. He stopped dead still and listened for any sounds of pursuit. There were all the nighttime clicks and chirps of insects, the rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth and other sounds he had grown to know well, but there were no shouts or the stamp of booted feet. Could they have actually gone to bed without missing the man he'd left tied in his cage?

After ten minutes or so of listening, he crept slowly toward the water. He almost stepped on a large chunk of coral that had washed up, but lifted his foot in time to avoid some nasty cuts. He didn't want to add coral cuts to the minor scrapes his bare feet had already accumulated. The coral would make a good marker, and he desperately wanted a bath. He bundled all of his things together by the coral, laid out his Ti leaf cane and the other Ti plant in a direct line into the ocean and eased into the faintly warm, salty water.

It stung in the many cuts and burns he had accumulated from Mercer and Jakob, but it cleaned them as well. He dare not go far, because he couldn't lose track of his meager belongings, but he scrubbed with sand and rinsed well. Just being clean renewed his strength and determination.

He left the water, followed the line of Ti plants he had placed back to the coral chunk, dressed and gathered his leaves and water bottles. He took a few swallows of the warm liquid, but dare not drink more. It had to last.

After brushing out any tracks as best he could, he walked along the shoreline for a distance. He hid his footsteps by moving just inside the gentle wash of the tide. He hoped to encounter mangrove trees that grew half in and half out of the water as they did on so many of the Keys. Their thick, dangling roots would provide a hiding place if he found nothing better.

He hadn't gone far before he stumbled over the first knob of mangrove roots. Careful exploration proved that they were thickly interlocked and their foliage lush and fresh smelling. He could swim under the roots and bring his head up well into the grove where he would be hidden. But he would be submerged to the neck in salt water for as long as he had to remain out of sight. He would rather go up and stay dry, if possible.

He turned his back to the mangroves and pressed into the center of the island again. In time, he broke into a clearing deep in a thicket of buttonwoods. His cane tapped against a massive buttress root as he explored the small, open space. He moved close and searched. He found a trunk that he couldn't reach around and a series of buttress roots that enclosed small, cozy spaces between them. He moved around the tree with one hand stretched up and encountered a branch he could reach.

He clamped his cane in his teeth, steadied himself with his pull on the branch, used his bare feet to clamber up a buttress root and was able to reach high enough to catch another branch. It took some scrambling, but he was soon well up into the abundant foliage that grew from large limbs.

He settled with his back to the trunk where two thick limbs met. He extended his arms to their full length and swept them overhead and to all sides; it seemed he was fairly well concealed. He hoped his guess was correct that the last place most people would look for a blind guy was up a tree.

He found a secure place in the limbs above him for his cane and spare Ti plant. With the long, central rib from a Ti leaf, he tied a large banana leaf around a nearby smaller limb and cradled his water bottles in it. At last he felt safe enough to rest for a while. As always, his first thoughts were of Annie.

Since Annie had come into his life, he had become aware of a slow change within himself: an unfolding of trust, the growth of a need to share. He felt more open, more able to give of himself, and possibly more important, an understanding that he could be loved just as he stood – blind, always to some extent dependent, yet prideful and stubborn. It was something he had thought lost forever after Iraq.

He believed she would find him. He had tried to give her all the tools he could, but it had been close to a week now, if he had managed to keep accurate track of the days. The clues to his whereabouts must be few and faint. He felt reasonably sure that what they had cut out of his arm was a tracking device; that made it harder. Mercer bragged that the Agency had surrendered him willingly. If that was so, he had to hope that they had some way to keep track of Mercer. If not …

If not, it left only his implant. Some of his geek squad had heard it mentioned when Annie had let it slip at the club meeting she attended. Evie Gomez was quick to pick up on it and had asked him more about it after most of the group left. He had told her little more than that it was an experimental location device that utilized reflected laser light to help a blind user avoid solid obstacles and stay aware of his location. Whether it would occur to anyone to try and use it to locate him was another question.

He had to believe Annie would find him; if she didn't, how long would Mercer go on trying to squeeze information out of him? How long would it take before his captors resorted to torture methods that would permanently cripple him? Or would Ben just cut his losses and do what Auggie suspected Mercer really wanted to do – kill his rival. For that matter, how long would Mercer's other masters give him to indulge himself in this personal vendetta if it didn't show results?

'_I have to hold out' _Auggie told himself. '_No matter what they do to me, I can't give them anything real – can't put others in danger to save myself.' _ As he sat perched in a tree in the hours before dawn on Saturday morning, Auggie reached a decision. He would do everything he could to hold out for another 7 or 8 days. After that, if he was still being tortured, he would try to make Ben Mercer so furious that he would kill him quickly. '_Better a quick, clean end than to finish up a sniveling, pleading wreck.'_

Auggie leaned his head against the tree trunk and relaxed. There were rumbles of thunder in the distance, and the pre-dawn air smelled of rain.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Annie woke early, showered and dressed in casual gray wool slacks and a black silk turtleneck top. She tried to bolster her spirits with a new, soft rose lipstick and a generous splash of Auggie's favorite Jo Malone grapefruit cologne. Its spicy blend of grapefruit, tangerine and rosemary always gave her self-confidence a boost. She was just headed for the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Made ultra cautious by Auggie's abduction she used the speaker. "Yes, who is it?"

"It's Cotton Hobbs. I think you were expecting me."

Annie made haste to slide the heavy door open. She looked out into the middle of a massive chest conservatively covered in a blue flannel shirt and topped with a long, black leather coat. Then she looked up… and up, and up. He topped Auggie's six feet by a good 4 inches and had shoulders that looked as wide as the front bumper on a classic Rolls Limo. She looked into bright blue eyes, shaded by thick, blonde lashes and heavy, fair brows. He had pulled off a black Stetson to reveal hair so blonde it was white. It was cut in a classic close military style. He was regarding her with a slight smile and open admiration.

"Miss Walker?" he said.

It took Annie a moment to find her voice. How had he gotten here so quickly? "Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm Annie Walker, and you must be Auggie's friend, Cotton?"

"Yes, ma'am, I am. And he's danged lucky I'm a friend. If you'll forgive me sayin' so, I'd sure be contending with him to take you to the Homecomin' Dance, iff'en he wasn't my good buddy and old captain." His broad, very genuine smile assured her his words were a compliment, but not an advance.

"Thank you, but do come in Mr. Hobbs. We have things a lot more serious than dances to talk about." Annie gave him a quick smile and stepped back from the doorway.

He wiped his cowboy boots carefully on the doormat and with a shy duck of his head came inside. "Please call me 'Cotton,' ma'am. 'Mr. Hobbs' makes me look around for my Pa."

"Alright," she agreed, "but you have to call me 'Annie' and not 'ma'am'. It makes me feel ancient."

"I'll try ma'a… sorry, Annie. It just comes natural to a lady. Way I was raised, I expect."

"I understand; whatever's easiest for you. I can't believe you're here already. Have you eaten? I was about to make some breakfast."

"I had a buddy run me up to Atlanta, and I was lucky to find a seat on the red eye to Washington. I sure could use some coffee, and a mite to eat would be welcome, if it's no trouble?" Cotton ducked his head in a quick, bashful gesture.

A 'mite to eat' turned out to be a four-egg omelet with cheese and fresh chives, a half pound of bacon, 3 slices of wheat toast with butter and blackberry jam, and 2 mugs of strong, plentifully sugared coffee, but over the food, Annie learned that she liked this big man and understood why Auggie did, too.

He was far more intelligent than his country ways suggested. He listened intently as Annie told him all she knew about Auggie's disappearance, and asked sharp, thought provoking questions.

"So," he summarized as they finished up the meal, "the Captain wasn't able to leave you any clear clue as to his whereabouts; the only witness is the jewelry store lady, and she just saw a black van with no distinguishing marks and couldn't get the license. His things turned up in a loft where his computer club meets. The evidence from there shows that someone used his keys to get into this apartment and plant his tracker device. Fingerprints identify a rogue agent with personal reasons to hate Auggie and two known thugs who work for a gun smuggler. So far, there's no trace of them leaving through any of the usual airports, bus or train stations. Basically, we've no idea where they've taken Auggie, and you don't trust your people to try very hard to find him?"

Annie bent her head and rubbed her aching eyes. "That's pretty much where we are." She blinked to clear away the blur of tears and looked up into Cotton's concerned, sympathetic face. "We meet with his computer group tonight. I have some hope they can help."

"Why wait until tonight?" Cotton asked. "Let's round 'em up and git goin' now."

"Wish we could, but they're in school or at work right now. It will have to be tonight."

"Then what about this gun runner who provided the manpower? Maybe we can squeeze something out of him."

Annie shook her head. "Yeah, the mysterious, no-last-name Mr. Klaus. I'd say grab him and squeeze hard, but nobody knows where he is. He headquarters in Germany, but could be anywhere in the Middle East or even parts of South America. Auggie's boss is going after him, but it will take time – too much time, time Auggie doesn't have, I'm afraid." Annie tried hard to stay cool and analytical, but emotion crept into her voice.

Cotton reached across the table and patted her on the shoulder with a hand that looked big enough to encompass her thigh. His touch was amazingly gentle. "Don't you worry, Miss Annie. You and me, we're gonna' find him and bring him home. He's the best damn officer I ever served with, and he saved my sorry butt more'n once. I ain't about to let no renegade spy do him in."

Annie looked up and gave him one of her beautiful, sweet, wide-eyed smiles. "I know you won't, Cotton; I feel better just having you here."

'_Lord-a-mercy,_' he thought. '_No wonder Auggie's plumb crazy about this woman, and he can't even see that face.'_

Annie knew she had to cover one other subject with Cotton. She searched about for a way to phrase it that wouldn't insult him.

"Auggie's instructions told me," she began, "that you earn your living by engaging in situations that require military type action. He made it clear that your fees were to be paid. And don't worry; he has some good investments and can afford it."

"Mercy, Miss Annie, that's the nicest way I ever heard of sayin' 'mercenary.'" Cotton's broad face broke open in a big grin and a chuckle. "Well, he was right. I was a 'merc' for a good while after I got out of Special Forces, but some things Auggie said got me to thinkin'. Here lately, I've stuck with jobs like rescuing company officers what's been kidnapped and held for ransom – some kids, too."

Annie instantly felt much more at ease and hopeful about his help.

"I can't take pay for helping out a friend like Auggie," Cotton said. "I will take expenses, and if we need more men, firearms or transportation that has to be paid for. I hope you understand."

"Of course I do, Cotton; keep a record and let me know when you need money. Right now you need a place to stay. There's a nice, small hotel just a couple of blocks on down the street from here. The rooms are clean, and they have TV, internet connections, mini bar, the works. We can get you set up there if you like?" She glanced at him with a question in her velvet brown eyes under their sweep of lashes.

"That'll be just fine," Cotton told her. "First, I'd like to use your phone for a bit to line up some things we might need. Then we can pick up my duffle bag – I left it with that nice fella' downstairs – and mosey on along to the hotel."

Told that some of his contacts might need to call him back, Annie gave Cotton one of several prepaid cell phones that Auggie always kept on hand, but cautioned him to be careful how he worded things. Even throwaway phones could sometimes be tracked.

She cleaned up the breakfast dishes while he made his calls. When he was finished, they loaded his duffle into the car and drove to the hotel. She arranged to pick him up again about 5:00 p.m. for an early dinner. They would go from the restaurant directly to the computer club meeting. Meanwhile, he could catch up on the sleep he'd lost on his way to answer her call for help.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Annie was scarcely aware of what she pushed around her plate at the restaurant where she took Cotton for dinner. The big man, she noticed, ate well but quickly. They were early to the club meeting, but found the place open and all the lights on. Shane Northman and Evie Gomez were there to greet them. The others arrived soon after.

When they had all clustered around Annie and Cotton, she introduced him as an ex-Army friend of Auggie's and told them as much as she safely could of Auggie's disappearance and what had been discovered since. She stressed the need for some clue, some bit of information that would aid them to determine his present location.

They, in turn, described finding their club space had been invaded and the discovery of Auggie's bloodstained clothing. It came out that each in their own way had been searching the computer world and the internet for any trace of their mentor. Several felt that if Auggie were anywhere on the net they would recognize his style and be able to identify him. Nothing had turned up so far.

The young group was distressed, and they were vocal about it. Tom Drummond, whose father worked in DPD, was more aware of the implications of Auggie's disappearance than the others, but was careful not to reveal what he could easily surmise.

It was Marla Ingram, who first broached the subject. Marla at 16 had a crush on Pete Winston, whose attempt to hack DPD had led to Auggie's first 'geek' and the founding of the club. She had devised a new and almost successful attack on the agency's firewalls that resulted in making her the third member of the original group. Now, at almost 20, she had outgrown her fascination with Pete and was moving on toward a promising career in the IT field.

She turned her slightly rounded and fair-skinned face to Annie and said, "Wasn't there some mention of an implant that helps Auggie determine his location the last time you were here, Miss Walker?"

Evie Gomez jumped on it. "Yes, an implant that interpreted laser light rebound to determine objects in his way. Was that what they cut out?"

"No," Annie replied, "no, I don't think so." Annie knew that what had been removed from Auggie's arm was the radio frequency tracer bug. The removal of his implant with its direct connection to his brain would be a major and probably dangerous operation. There was no indication that such a procedure had taken place in the loft.

"If he still has that implant, maybe … maybe we could access it." The low-pitched, hesitant voice came from Annie's left. She turned to see a slender, dark-haired boy whose face looked harried, almost frightened, before he lowered his eyes and twisted slender, shapely hands together.

"I'm sorry," Annie said. "I don't remember your name; remind me?"

"That's okay," he said with a shy smile. "Most don't."

Marla broke into the conversation. "Miss Walker, this is my friend Darryl Norman. He's half computer himself. If anybody can figure out how to find Auggie, he can."

Annie remembered now what Auggie had told her after the last club meeting. Darryl was young, only 17. Marla knew him from school. The boy was brilliant, but gay. His sexual orientation made him the butt of constant bullying and teasing. Afraid he was on the verge of suicide, Marla had begged Auggie to bring him into the club. The welcome, acceptance and honest friendship he had found within the group had helped to make life more endurable for him, and his skills had blossomed.

Annie smiled gently. "What made you think of his implant, Darryl?"

The boy brought his eyes back from where he had been staring at Cotton with open admiration. "It came up, and I think someone said it was useful in helping a blind person know his location. I just wondered exactly how much it did. Would you know?"

Annie's thoughts turned to a warm, sunny Sunday in the early fall of the year. She had persuaded Auggie to engage in that American institution, a Sunday drive. She was dying to get out of the city and see the lovely fall colors, go on to the beach and indulge in a feast of fresh seafood. Although she knew the only scenic beauty he could enjoy would be through her descriptive abilities, he had agreed.

They had put down the top on his Corvette and set off just after 7:00 a.m. They followed I95 as far as Fredericksburg, where they stopped for breakfast and they turned east on route 17 and turned again shortly to follow Route 3, the Twiggs Ferry Road, along the eastern bank of the Rappahannock River. They drove onto the ferry, enjoyed the ride across the lazy Rappahannock and continue on Rt. 3 until it crossed the Piankatank River just below Dragon Swamp.

Annie pulled over when she spotted an eagle perched high in a cypress, his gaze fixed intently on the dark water. In whispers, she described the scene for Auggie, and they sat in silence until the eagle sprang from his perch, swooped over the water and snatched. He flapped hard and arose into the sun with a large and still wriggling fish clamped tight in his claws. It was such a rare and special sight that Annie found her heart racing, and she clutched Auggie's arm hard enough to bruise as she tried to find words to do it justice.

As they drove, she did her best to describe the clear blue sky, the gently flowing water and the blaze of fall colors. The trees had thrown everything into a last glorious show before winter. There was every shade of gold and flaming red, bronze and rust and brown. The occasional stately pine refused to indulge in such foolishness and remained a rich, somber green. Auggie turned his face to the sun and breathed deeply of the scents of land, water and lush vegetation.

He seemed to enjoy the trip; he laughed easily and teased her with the old Virginia rhyme: 'All along the Piankatank, where the bullfrogs jump from bank to bank.' It was a short, semi-tidal river that had seen a lot of action in the Civil War and was still the location of many fine old homes. They stopped at a crab shack on the beach and stuffed themselves with fresh crabs, shrimp, catfish and hushpuppies for lunch.

In the late afternoon, they followed Dutton Road that lead into Rt. 17 at the southern end of the Tidewater Trail. All went well until somewhere between the towns of Center Cross and Tappahannock there was a high pitched squeal and a sharp snap from the Corvette's engine. Annie pulled over, and investigation proved that the fan belt had snapped. She was able to raise a garage in Tappahannock on her cell phone, but was at a loss when the mechanic asked for their location.

"Hold on a minute," Auggie said. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. After a few seconds, she saw his face twist in an expression of pain, quickly suppressed. Soon he recited their coordinates which she repeated to the mechanic. When Annie looked back at her companion, he was rubbing at a spot just above and slightly behind his left ear

The mechanic promised to be out in his truck with a new fan belt in about an hour. They got out to stretch their legs while they waited. Auggie took his usual light grip just above her elbow, and they strolled on the grassy verge of the highway.

"How did you do that?" Annie asked. "It looked like it hurt."

"Do what?"

"Come up with our location coordinates out of the blue?"

"Oh, I downloaded them from the GPS satellite system through my implant."

Annie's eyes opened wide in surprise. "I didn't know you could do that."

"It's designed to let a blind user know his location at any time. Usually that's the laser cane identifying his immediate surroundings, but it does include more than just what's in a room. I can instruct my implant to listen to the signals from the satellites within range and from that determine our coordinates."

"But it hurt you. You tried to hide it, but I saw it."

"Always the good spy, Miss Walker," Auggie smiled at her. "It takes more power than the implant normally requires, and it can heat up a bit."

The mechanic's truck pulled up soon after, and Annie had thought no more of the implant, until this minute.

She felt the first glimmer of hope she had known for days now, and it must have shown in her face.

"What is it?" Evie Gomez demanded. "What did you just think of?"

"Darryl, Evie," Annie said, "his implant can determine latitude and longitude from the GPS satellites. Is there any chance that could help find where he is now?"

Darryl and Evie immediately began a conversation that was almost incomprehensible to Annie with Marla breaking in from time to time to add a comment. After several tense minutes, Darryl turned to Annie and said, "We think it might be possible, but we would need more information on his implant. Can you help us with that?"

Annie thought hard. The agency had been responsible for Auggie getting the laser cane and experimental implant, and it was unlikely they would give her any details. There had to be something else. Something stirred deep in her memory. In Auggie's safe – she had been intent on finding the things he had left for her there, but she had shuffled aside a folder that held medical records. He would need to know what was in his head, wouldn't he? Maybe the specifications for the implant were there?

"I don't know any more immediately," Annie told the waiting group, "but there's a chance I can find more about it. I have to look at home."

"Go look now!" Evie almost shouted. "We'll wait."

Cotton chose that moment to interrupt. "Now, hold on here, young lady. If I have it right, you've all been at work or at school all day, and it's after 9:00 p.m. now."

The group members nodded yes.

"Then I think you should give us your phone numbers, and all go home and get a good night's sleep. Miss Walker will search for the information you need. If she can find it, she will give you a call early tomorrow morning, and we can meet here again and get to work on finding Captain Anderson." He turned to Annie. "What do you think?"

Anxious as she was to begin the search, she knew Cotton was being sensible. The work would go better if the kids were rested and fresh. "He's right," she told them. "It will take me some time to look for the exact specifications you need, and if I find them, you'll have to be at the top of your game. Let's wind this up for now and all go home."

Auggie's geek squad was reluctant but finally agreed. They closed the loft and set off home. Cotton drove; Annie's hands were shaking with excitement. She let him drop her off and take the car on to his hotel. The hotel had secured, under the building, parking – Auggie's beloved classic sports car would be safe. Annie promised to call as soon as she found anything on the implant.

She slammed and locked the apartment door behind her, dropped her coat and purse on the table and raced to Auggie's safe. She lifted out the floor vent and peeled back the dusty appearing cover that concealed it. Once crouched there she almost screamed in frustration when she realized she would have to go and find the instructions he had given her for opening it. The Braille markings meant little to her. Learn Braille was rapidly moving to the top of her list of things to do once Auggie was home.

She found the instructions where she had left them tucked away in her own safe, then took a calming breath and followed them carefully. His safe opened easily, and she began her search. She lifted out the weapons, currency, passports, code books and other things that lay on top and began a search of the folders stacked neatly at the bottom. It took her twice through, but she eventually found the file marked "Medical Records" among a pile of mission reports and technical data.

She set it aside, returned things to their original positions in his safe, closed and locked it, replaced the coverings that disguised it, stood and stretched. She took the folder to her desk, turned on the reading lamp and began.

Like everyone, she supposed, his medical records went back to childhood. His mother had seen that he had all his shots and checkups, and he had missed most of the childhood diseases, except German measles. He had gotten a heavy dose of those, and she realized it probably accounted for one or two faint scars still visible on his face. Wrestling had brought its share of strains and sprains, but nothing too serious.

There were reports of the C.I.A. and military exams. He was consistently reported as fit and strong, if slender, for his height. The reports of his injury in Tikrit and the follow up work done in Germany and at Walter Reed formed a thick folder of their own. She couldn't resist a quick look into them and found that the explosion that blinded him also gave him a major concussion. It probably accounted to some extent for his migraines; it also made her acutely aware that he should avoid more heavy blows to the head.

At last she found the records of his implant. It had been done just shortly before she came to the DPD and had been at Joan's request. It gave him better mobility and more complete awareness of his surroundings. The technical specifications were long and dauntingly phrased in a mix of medical jargon and techno babble. Incredible advances in nanotechnology were involved. One thing was clear. The laser cane was an integral part of the system. She would need the cane to communicate with his implant. The cane was under lock and key at Langley

Annie knew she was likely to be severely reprimanded for revealing any of this information to even a few outsiders. She rested her aching head in her hands and thought hard. There was no way information on Auggie's implant could jeopardize any ongoing missions or out any secret agents. It was an experimental gadget in his head and, as far as she could tell, in his head only. The hell with it! If it would help find him, she was using it. On a clean sheet of paper she carefully typed out the specifications for the implant only. Anything tying it to the C.I.A. she deleted.

It was well past midnight. She would try to get a few hours sleep and call everyone concerned in the morning, including Stu. He would have to get his hands on Auggie's cane and be willing to smuggle it out of the office. She crossed her fingers and prayed he had meant it when he said 'anything' to help.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Auggie dozed for a while in his tree perch, but was awakened by a crash of nearby thunder and a sudden hard downpour of rain. '_It'll wash out my tracks,'_ was Auggie's first thought and '_water' _was his second. He recovered his water bottles from their banana leaf sling. He felt around the tree trunk and found a spot where the rainwater was running down it in a small but steady stream. He pressed the lip of a bottle against the bark and held it there until the bottle filled and the water overflowed to wet his hand.

He quickly capped the first bottle and replaced it with his second. When that too had filled, he pressed his mouth to the tree trunk and drank in slow steady gulps. It had a taste of green things, but it was cool and fresh. By the time the squall line passed, he was no longer thirsty for the first time in days. This early morning rain had been a gift from the gods.

Auggie stowed his replenished water supply carefully, used his wet shirt to wipe away some of the dried on salt from his ocean bath and settled back into what he tended to think of as his nest. He spread his shirt across his knees to dry.

The night sounds had vanished with the rain, and presently he heard the birds begin their morning songs and squabbles as they left their night time perches and began to snatch up the worms the rain had brought up from the sandy earth. Within the hour, warm rays of the early morning sun began to pierce through the upper foliage and heat spots on his bare chest.

With adequate water for once, his hunger intensified and his belly rumbled. He had no food and no immediate prospects of any, so he distracted himself with an attempt to create some sort of foot protection. He cut long strands of Ti leaf and used them to make a number of flat braided strips. The strips he wove into two thick mats roughly the length and width of his feet. From the longer palm fronds he wove straps that could be used to tie them to his feet. It was slow, experimental work for a blind man, but some of his retraining work had included craft classes, and he managed. The day felt close to noon by the time he had finished.

He stowed the slippers in another palm leaf sling and settled against the tree trunk to try and sleep. Once it was dark he planned to climb down and search for food. He had heard sounds of a search off and on throughout the morning, but so far, no one had penetrated through the heavy growth that surrounded this huge tree. He doubted his peace would last; this was only a small islet.

It was mid-afternoon when he heard loud voices and the chop of an ax or machete against the woody brush. He pushed himself tight against the tree trunk, pulled his legs up to his chest and draped his few remaining Ti leaves around himself to break up the outline of a human form. He quieted his breathing and remained perfectly still.

There was a last crash of brush and then silence as the searchers broke into the small clearing created by the large kapok tree.

"Whuh!" an unfamiliar voice said. "It's too damn hot for thrashing through this mess. I'm takin' a break in the shade here. How 'bout you?"

"I could do with a drink and a smoke. It's not like Mercer's gonna find us here." Auggie had heard the voice a few times, but had no name to attach to it. Footsteps thumped across the clearing, and the two men settled into the space between two buttress roots a little to the right of Auggie's location. _If he could only melt into the tree trunk like a wood nymph. He prayed they didn't do a lot of looking up._

He heard a canteen being uncapped and passed back and forth. Then there was the flick of a lighter and cigarette smoke drifted up to tickle his sinuses.

"I still don't see how the hell Herman let a blind guy take him down and tie him up," the first speaker said. "And where's he gonna go anyways – this is an island, for Pete's sake!"

The second man sucked on his smoke and then said, "If you was being hauled in and tied up every day for Jakob to torture, bet you'd run too. He's gotta be hopin' for rescue. Maybe he thinks he can hide out 'till it comes."

"Fat chance," the first man laughed. "Mercer will search the place inch by inch if that's what it takes." They lapsed into silence.

Auggie remained motionless and breathed silently through his mouth. Suddenly something plopped onto his head. He suppressed everything beyond a first instinctive quiver as four small, claw-tipped feet made their way through his thatch of hair and onto his forehead. He shut his eyes tightly and his skin crawled. Slowly the creature walked down the side of his face. He could feel each foot as it was slowly peeled away and replaced a little further down. It paused when it came to the corner of his mouth and made a tiny chirp.

'_It's a gecko,' _Auggie thought_. 'It has to be a gecko – they're harmless, I think.' _He felt a tiny touch on his lip that could have been a quick flick of its tongue. Presently the journey was resumed. It plodded down his neck, across his shoulder and onto his arm. The arm hairs lifted and shivered as the tiny, sticky feet parted them. When it reached his hand, it scurried across his fingers and onto the tree limb. It was all Auggie could do not to groan in relief.

Auggie realized he had no idea how long it had taken the little being to complete its journey or how long the men had been resting at the base of his tree. It seemed like an eternity but had probably been only 20 minutes or so. Presently he heard them groan, curse and come heavily to their feet.

Then he got a gift. "What time ya got, Max?" the first man asked. "We been out here searchin' since just after daylight."

After a moment spent to consult his watch, Max said, "2:10 p.m. Let's start working back toward the house and take our time?"

"Fine with me."

Auggie listened carefully and marked the direction they took out of the clearing. He could hear them continue to chop away limbs and thickets that barred their path. It would make it a lot easier to move around when he came down after dark.

He dozed through the heat of the afternoon, but came alert when the sun dropped into the ocean and the air began to cool. Soon the evening sounds began as nocturnal insects, lizards, frogs and other creatures of the dark began their nightly hunt for food or mates.

Auggie had spent some time thinking about how to obtain food. Once he had been able to snatch a fish from the water with his bare hands, but that didn't work for a sightless man. Even if he managed to scoop up some fingerlings near the shore with his shirt for a net, he had no way to tell one that was safe to eat raw from something poisonous. There might be bird's nests in the trees with eggs in them, but again, without sight, how to locate or reach them.

The native trees and shrubs that filled the bulk of the island bore no edible fruit. About the only source available to him were the plantings near the house. There he might find coconuts, bananas or guavas. It was a risk, but hunger was beginning to gnaw at him. He would need some energy source if he was going to remain able to travel and climb. He would wait until deep in the night when he hoped they would all be asleep.

When the night had crept past and settled into a deep almost complete silence, he began to make his way out of the tree. He stretched as best he could, stiff from remaining still so long, and gathered his things. He dropped his woven sandals, and makeshift cane down to the earth below him. His drank one bottle of water and tucked the empty into his belt. The other he left in its tree sling. He hoped he would be able to return before morning.

He took his time to reach the ground; he never released one hand or toe hold until he had found and tested another. Soon the warm, sandy soil was once again under his feet. He sat down and tied his Ti leaf sandals onto his feet.

He set off down the trail the two men had cut guided by the steady sweep of his Ti plant stem cane. _Sure wish I had my laser one,_ he thought. But it was locked securely away in his office or so he believed.

The trail wandered here and there as the men had made some effort to locate any trace of him, but in time he could smell the island's only house. It smelled of cooked food, mildew and human bodies.

Coconuts would be the best food source. They were filled with a nutritious liquid and rich, oily meat. He needed to find the line of coconut trees he had passed on the night of his escape and search the ground around them for fallen nuts.

He moved stealthily closer making wide sweeps with his cane until it contacted a solid tree trunk. He felt the trunk and thought it was a coconut. He began to search the ground beneath the tree and its neighbors. Presently he found a rounded, rough-feeling object nearly the size of a bowling ball – a coconut. He picked it up in delight and brought it close to his nose.

Suddenly there was a rustle in the grass, a savage snarl and massive jaws clamped down on his right forearm and jerked him almost off his feet. Another grabbed his pant leg and pulled. Off balance he went down.

Dogs! They had dogs he wasn't aware of. They must have been kept well away from the house. The pain in his arm was intense. A large hot body straddled him and growled in his face. He froze. The beast with his forearm in its mouth bit down harder and shook his whole arm like a bone. He howled in pain, and the animal that straddled him began to bark in a deep bass that would wake the dead.

Afraid that if he moved the dog crouched over him would go for his throat there was nothing Auggie could do as men began to shout and pour from the house. He was taken.

After what seemed like an eternity, someone snapped leads on the dogs and called them off. When the teeth ripped out of his arm, he felt hot blood rise and begin to drip. Someone twisted their hand in his hair and jerked him to a sitting position. He heard Jakob's voice.

"Take him into the house. We must care for that arm."

Ben Mercer interrupted. "No, dammit! Throw him in the cage. If he bleeds to death all the better!"

Auggie could hear Jakob arguing in German, but it made no difference. He was tossed face first into the cage and the door slammed and locked. In time the noise faded away, and he was able to prop himself up against the tree trunk. He wrapped his throbbing arm in his filthy shirt and held it above his head until the bleeding seemed to stop.

If he had known there were attack dogs, he wouldn't have tried to run. If … so many ifs in life. If he hadn't raced toward that explosion. If he hadn't fallen in love with Annie. No matter; there was no water, no food, and Annie was the light in his dark life. All he could do was curl around the pain and try to sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Annie was awake before daylight, and her first call was to Stu's apartment. He sounded more than half asleep when he answered.

"Stu," she said, "sorry to wake you, but we need to talk _privately._ I'm going to give you a number, call me back there. Don't do it from home. Understand?"

He was instantly fully and completely awake. "Got you, Annie," he said. "Shoot me the digits and give me 15 minutes." She gave him the number from one of Auggie's prepaid phones and hung up.

She took the phone and sat on the edge of the bed to await his call. Since Auggie insisted that his private life actually be private, he swept their bed, bath and dressing areas weekly to remove and destroy any listening devices that their bosses might plant. Stu was as good as his word and within a quarter of an hour the phone rang. She answered at once.

"Annie."

"Stu here, Annie. What's up?"

"We may have a way to locate Auggie, but we need his laser cane. Can you get it and smuggle it out of the office – no questions asked:"

There was a long silence. "You know, Annie, I was going to call you today. A rep from the high tech company that's developing this laser system dropped by the office a couple of days ago. He had a newer model laser cane for Auggie to try out. When I said that Auggie was temporarily out of contact, he mentioned that the laser cane had a chip that could determine the location of its implant by sending queries through the cell tower network. It's really meant to find a user who might be injured or unconscious somewhere nearby, but there's a chance it might work over a longer distance."

"Stu, that's great news! Can you get the cane? How soon?"

Stu sighed deeply. "That's the problem, Annie. Auggie usually just locks it in his desk drawer since this is a secure area. After the laser cane representative left, I sort of jimmied his drawer with a letter opener. You know the government – only the finest equipment sold by the lowest bidder. But, his cane's not in there. I asked around the office. Two people said they saw somebody they didn't recognize enter his office early last week. This guy bent over Auggie's desk and did something out of their line of sight. He was only there for a minute. Then he left and walked out of the D.P.D. No clue as to where he came from, but I could guess."

Annie made a sort of moan into the receiver of her phone.

"I think there's some sort of a cover-up going on, Annie. We have to find Auggie on our own; we can't count on the Agency for help. But, there's one ray of hope. I pumped the company rep for all the information I could. I think there's a chance we can locate Auggie by a mass attack on the cell phone towers: if we have some of the information on his implant, and if he's not half a world away."

"I found his medical records, Stu." Annie's voice sounded a lot more hopeful. "There's a lot of information on his implant. I guess his doctor thought he ought to know. Maybe it's got what we need to find him."

"Great, Annie! That's just great!" Stu said. "I want to help."

"I'm calling his computer kids now, Stu. We'll be getting together at the club's loft at about 9:00 a.m. this morning. Join us as soon as you can." She gave him the address.

The next half hour she spent calling Cotton and the computer club members. That done she called a catering company and arranged to have a set up for making coffee, tea or hot cocoa, along with pastries and a huge fruit platter delivered to the loft shortly after 9:00 a.m. Auggie always saw 'his kids' well fed, and she knew it was what he'd want her to do.

Cotton picked her up at 8:00 a.m., and they stopped for a quick breakfast while Annie brought him up to date on what she had learned overnight.

They arrived promptly at the loft, but Auggie's kids had the lights on and the computers warming up when they arrived. Stu followed them in ten minutes later.

Evie Gomez, Marla Ingram and Darryl Norman were huddled over the specifications for Auggie's implant that she had brought them. Stu was introduced and joined them.

Annie and Cotton sat, trying to suppress feelings of inadequacy and anxiety, while a heated discussion developed. Finally, Stu turned to them and said, "We think we've got it."

"Can you explain it to me?" Annie asked in a low voice. She knew languages, and people, spy craft and guns, so many other things, but she was woefully ignorant in the area of highly technical and rarified electronic information science in which Auggie worked. It embarrassed her even though he often told her there was no reason to be. He had spent more than half his life studying and working in this constantly changing area.

"Okay," Stu said. "We're talking highly advanced nanotechnology – stuff that would sound like magic to the man in the street. The implant in Auggie's head gets the energy to operate by the difference in potential between his blood and the fluid in his brain sac. As you might imagine it has a very short duration operating cycle. After a minute or two of low voltage output it would have to go offline and wait to recharge. Even this would build up some heat and could be painful to him."

Annie remembered the pain that had twisted Auggie's face when he had come up with their location coordinates on their drive into southern Virginia.

"Fortunately," Stu went on, "we have the frequency that the locator chip in the cane would use to locate the implant via the cell phone network – if we had the cane. So what we have to do is hack into the main computer that drives the cell phone system and break it up into large chunks representing the various geographical areas it serves."

"But wouldn't someone monitoring the system see what you were doing?" Cotton asked.

"We don't think so. These kids are good. They'll be in and out before it can be traced. Anyhow, once we have that, we can pulse the various chunks and listen for a response. The pulse should just seem like static to anyone using or watching the system. The response from Auggie's implant may be faint, but we think we can increase the gain enough to hear it. That would tie it down to a specific area of the country.

"Even so, it's a big 'ol country," Cotton said.

"You're right," Stu grinned, but once we have a specific area, it's just a matter of sending out a pulse tower by tower within the area and listening again. It'll be a grind, but with the whole group working it will go faster than you think. If we can get a response from as many as three towers, we'll have his location triangulated to within five or ten acres. If more towers get a response, we can tie it down even more."

"Oh God, Stu, that's wonderful, just wonderful!" Annie's smile brought a response from everyone watching her.

"I think," said Darryl Norman in his soft voice, "that once we locate it, there's a chance we can get the implant to tell us its exact coordinates, _if _Auggie has been able to determine them and _if _he hasn't been moved since. Not everyone agrees, and if he's drugged or too far out of it to do that, then, of course, it won't work.

"We need to get busy," Stu told them, and everyone settled to their computers.

As they worked, the caterers arrived and set up. Annie went from desk to desk and took requests for hot drinks and pasties or fruit which she delivered and placed quietly where the kids could reach them without breaking their concentration.

It wasn't long until Shane Northman shouted, "I got it, a hit – a response. He's somewhere in the lower southeastern end of the country: Florida, parts of Georgia and Alabama. I heard it, clear as a bell."

Cries of "You're sure?" and "Thank Heaven" went up around the room, and half a dozen of the kids had to try it for themselves before they were convinced and ready to settle down to the tedious job of pinging tower by tower. They divided the work into a grid to avoid duplication and settled in to find their friend.

Annie contacted the catering company again and ordered a lunch of sandwiches and hot soup. When it arrived, she insisted that the kids, one by one, take a break to eat, rest and use the bathroom. They were reluctant, but Cotton backed Annie up, and they did it.

It was Evie who got the first individual tower response. "I got one!" she yelled. It's from Panama City, Florida. Where's a map?"

Everybody looked blank for a minute; their eyes searched the loft. Cotton reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and unfolded a large map of the U.S. printed on very thin, flexible plastic. He spread it on the coffee table, and they leaned over it. He placed a large index finger on Panama City. "It's right on the Gulf in northern Florida," he said.

"Okay," Stu said. "Let's concentrate on Florida for now." He again divided the work into sections and the club members went back to their computers.

It wasn't long until Donny Carlone said, "I got a response, a strong one; it's from Key West."

Annie was looking at the map. "But that puts him out in the Gulf of Mexico someplace. Are they on a boat?" Her shoulders slumped.

"It's possible," Stu said, but I'm betting on a Florida Key. Miss Ingram, can you pull up a good map of the Keys and print it out?" he asked.

"Sure. Right on it."

"Let's try some more towers in that area," Stu said. "We need to go slow now, remember the implant has to build up power to respond. We can't rush it."

They took their time and were developing a good picture with dots on the map Marla had printed out when Darryl turned with a smile and said, "I told you so. The Key Largo tower just got his coordinates from the implant." He recited the coordinates Auggie had accessed so many days ago: Latitude N25 degrees, 19 minutes and 26.9995 seconds and Longitude W77 degrees, 10 minutes, and 4.6875 seconds.

They plotted it out and discovered a small, remote, low-lying key not connected to the Overseas Highway and accessible only by boat or helicopter. Lines connecting the towers that had recorded responses coincided at the same faint smudge on the map.

Annie could hardly breathe. They knew where Auggie was! They could go and get him and bring him home. He'd be back, safe, where she would never let him out of her sight again! She spread her arms to embrace them all. "Thank you, thank you. You are all wonderful, marvelous friends. We will never forget what you've done here today."

She turned to face Cotton. "How soon can we go?"

"Annie, I'm as glad as you are that we've located Auggie, but we can't just head out after him in the next ten minutes. We don't know who's holding him or how many of them there are, or what kind of arms they may have. We have to approach this like a military operation. We need transportation, supplies, arms, and above all we have to decide how many are going and who they will be."

Every kid in the room stuck their hand up and yelled, "ME!"

Cotton grinned at them and shook his head. "You guys are the best; and you're a hell-of-a lot smarter than I'll ever be, but I've been doing this kind of thing for longer than you've been out of grade school. You need to trust me. I've got some professionals lined up, and there are rules: no one under 21, no one who doesn't have more to contribute to the operation than their affection for Auggie, and – I know this will piss you off – but no women; it's too dangerous."

Annie glared at him.

"We'll talk," Cotton said, and turned back to the kids. "Does anyone have any military experience: National Guard, ROTC, anything like that?"

"I think you'll want me," Mark Henry said. "I'm 25 years old, I'm Air National Guard, and I'm a fully qualified Emergency Medical Technician." He extended his hand to Cotton.

"You're on, Mr. Henry," Cotton told him as they shook hands. "A good EMT is a valuable asset."

Shane Northman stepped up next. "I'd like to be included, Mr. Hobbs. I'm 22 and working on my law degree. I've got 5 years Naval ROTC and am the lead midshipman with my unit. I've had considerable weapons training. I want to be a Navy JAG on a command ship."

Cotton thought a minute and then extended his hand. "You may accompany us, Mr. Northman, but remember I will be completely in charge. Will you follow my legal orders without protest?"

"I will."

"Then I'll count on you." The two men shook hands.

"Mr. Henry, Mr. Northman, please hold yourselves ready. Annie or I will call you just as soon as we can get everything organized. Line up some sturdy clothes, boots and a cap or hat to wear," Cotton said.

Annie thanked everyone again as they left. When the three of them were alone, Annie and Stu spoke almost as one, "I'm going!" Annie said. "So am I," came from Stu.

Cotton looked dubious.

"Look," Annie said, "you've known Auggie a long time. I expect you have a pretty good idea who he works for?"

Cotton nodded yes.

"Well, Stu and I work in the office with Auggie. We both have extensive weapons training and have shot and been shot at. We've seen our share of terrorists and other nasties, and we don't get rattled very easily. We are going, so that makes 5. You said you had some men lined up?"

Cotton grinned. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Walker, you're the boss, 'long as you understand that I can't guarantee anybody's safety – course I'll sure try my darndest."

Annie reached out and touched his arm lightly. "I know you will, Cotton. Now let's go and see how fast we can put this together. Every hour counts for Auggie."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

After the excitement of Auggie's early morning capture, Mercer and his men slept late. It was mid-morning before anyone approached the cage. Auggie thought he recognized the voice as that of the man addressed as Max. Their break taken yesterday under his hideout tree had given him a chance to hear it.

He shouted for Auggie to come to the gate. When he shambled over, a bottle of warm water and sandwich of stale bread and greasy bacon was shoved under the grate. Even as hungry as he was Auggie had trouble getting it down, but he ate it slowly and deliberately. He could feel Max watching him.

"See the monkey in the cage," he said lightly. "Not much to do for entertainment around here is there?"

"You got that right," Max replied. "This is some weird operation. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. Why don't you just tell 'em what they want to know, and then we can all go home?"

"I don't think I can count on that. I expect Ben Mercer would rather see me dead."

"What do you know that they want so bad, and what in hell did you ever do to make Mercer hate you so much?"

"Hey, I'm just a computer tech for a government agency. I don't know much beyond some technical stuff. My problem is that Mercer had two chances at a beautiful young lady, and he left her hanging both times. She's with me now, and he wants her back. She's through with him, and he blames me. No international intrigue, just plain mean jealousy."

"No shit," Max said. "I'm sorry, man. Wish I could help, but I can't. Push that plate back out, will ya. I gotta take it back."

Auggie shoved the empty plate back under the door. Max took it and stood up.

"Your arm's a mess," he said. "Damn dogs did a number on it. I hate 'em; they're ugly brutes." He headed back to the house.

Auggie retreated to the shade of the banana tree. He suspected he was in for a rough day, and if he didn't get medical treatment soon, he would be in real trouble.

It wasn't long until they came for him. He was half led, half dragged into the house and his usual torture chamber. Jakob and Ben Mercer were waiting for him there. Mercer greeted him with a hard slap across the mouth and a growl. "Alright Anderson, now you're going to tell me something I can use." He was shoved down into a chair.

Jakob approached him. "Auggie," he said in a soft voice, "let me see your arm."

If he wanted to see the injured arm there was no way Auggie could prevent it, so he extended it slightly. There was silence and a couple of light touches; then Jakob spoke to Mercer.

"Herr Mercer, this must be treated. Allow me to wash and bandage it and give him some antibiotics?"

"I said no!" Mercer grabbed Auggie's wrist and twisted his injured arm savagely.

Auggie drove his teeth into his lip and managed to stay silent.

"Waterboard him and get some results!" Mercer said and stalked from the room.

Auggie had undergone a brief session of waterboarding as part of a course on resisting interrogation. He knew what was coming and dreaded it.

He was lifted onto a hard, wide plank and stretched full length. His feet were tied fast at the ankles and his arms stretched above his head and tied. He could feel the bite marks tear open and start to ooze blood. Then he was tilted back until his head was well below his feet and a towel pressed down over his face and head. He took a deep breath and waited for the water to come. Instead there was a pause.

"I don't want to do this, Auggie." It was Jakob's soft, bland voice. "Tell me something to satisfy Herr Mercer, anything, and I will release you, do what I can for your arm."

It was so tempting. Reveal one minor asset in some far away country; offer up the location of some ex-terrorist who had turned his coat and sought sanctuary, or reveal some misinformation plan. It would be so easy. It would save him agony and humiliation. But it couldn't happen; wouldn't happen. He might be blind: no longer in the field or on the front lines of a battle, but he was still a warrior and a patriot to his core.

"Jakob, you know I made the other stuff up. I made it up because I don't know anything that Mercer wants. I'm just an IT guy. They don't let me in on the spy stuff." It was worth a try.

"I'm sorry, Auggie; it seems we must proceed."

He just had time to take a deep breath before the water began to stream over the towel that covered his face. It ran up his nose and filled his mouth. Immobilized, he fought to retain mental control and suppress his gag reflex. It was like being underwater, unable to surface.

He blew out slowly, but the water continued to flow. He ran out of breath, and the water filled his airway. A sharp blow struck him across his shins, and he gasped. Water hit his lungs, and he began to cough, thrash his head and struggle madly. Just when he thought he would drown, the stream of water stopped and the board was raised.

The towel was pulled away, and he was able to suck in air. He coughed until his already bruised throat was raw, but finally stabilized at something approaching normal.

"Tell me something, Auggie," Jakob said from beside him.

Auggie shook his head. "Can't" he croaked.

The towel was thrown over his head, the board tipped back even farther, and the water began to stream again.

It was hell. Auggie was a swimmer, but he was accustomed to using his arms and legs to maintain his position in the water. Helpless, tied and submerged upside down and backwards under what felt like a steady flow of water, the deep-seated human fear of drowning kicked in. He fought it; tried not to let them catch him as he inhaled, held his mind in a relentless clutch, but with repeated sessions exhaustion took over.

"Wait," he gasped as they began to tip him back for the sixth time. "Maybe, something … rest a minute… just thought of it…"

"Untie him," Jakob said. "Put him in the chair. Let him catch his breath."

The men followed Jakob's directions, and Auggie was once again secured in the hard, straight chair. They tied only his arms.

"You have something for Mr. Mercer?" Jakob asked. "If this is a trick, it will be much worse when we continue."

"Just remembered," Auggie said. "Overheard my boss say something while I was setting up some communications equipment. Tryin' to turn a guy, make him a double agent."

"Where and who?"

"Northern Pakistan, a Haggani unit of Al Qaeda. Looking for solid proof they're supported by elements of the government there. No name. They wouldn't say a name with me in the room. Guy's a native though. They called him 'The Red Horseman'. Could be a Bible reference or something else. I don't know."

"Auggie, I hope this is something Herr Mercer can use."

"Jakob, I'm finished. Can't take any more. Please." Auggie prayed they would believe him. He was exhausted.

Hauled back to his cage and dumped inside, he continued to cough in an effort to clear his lungs of water. Better a painful throat than a mechanical pneumonia, he thought.

Despite the pain of his bitten arm and his exhaustion from the water torture, sometime in the late afternoon he became aware of occasional intense itching high behind his left ear. He rubbed at it and felt the slight bulge of his implant. It was a sensation unlike any he had experienced. Dazed and depressed it took him sometime to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, his implant was active. It was utilizing tiny amounts of energy generated in his brain to respond to external signals. At times it grew hot and painful; then it would subside.

As the heat of the day began to fade, he felt a sort of tickling inside his head. It grew intense; suddenly, without warning, the coordinates he had downloaded more than a week age popped into his mind unbidden. He was frozen with shock for a moment and then a slow smile spread across his battered face. Maybe, just maybe, he had been found.

He allowed himself to hope. Rescue could be on its way soon. If someone, he prayed it was Annie, knew where he was, if he could hang on for just a little while longer someone would come. _Dear God, please let someone come!_ He was so tired.

By the time supper came his arm was swollen and a steady throb sent waves of pain up the extremity. James brought his meal. He had done his best to select the most eatable scraps from the table leftovers. He squatted opposite Auggie as he pushed the plate under the door.

"Auggie," he whispered, "I can't help much. They already think I may have helped you escape. They watch me. Water is clean, cool." He handed a moist bottle through the opening. "Es tut mir leid."

"I know, James," Auggie spoke softly. "I'm sorry too. Stay clear. If help comes for me, surrender and ask for asylum."

James' step was slow as he walked away.

Auggie drank all of the cool, clear water. Not much use in saving it. His body needed it now. He had little appetite, but ate what he could. His sleep was restless and pain filled that night. By morning he was running a fever.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Tuesday morning found Annie and Cotton hard at work. Cotton first called the two men he had put on alert and told them to pick up the weapons at his place and get to Washington, D.C. as fast as they could. Annie arranged to wire them travel funds.

Transportation came next. They discussed going by ship, but agreed that even the fastest oceangoing vessel they could rent would take too long to reach the Florida Keys from the Norfolk area. And then there was the time it would take to drive to the coast from Washington. They agreed it would be best to fly from Washington to Miami and then go the rest of the way by helicopter to the coordinates of the obscure Key where Auggie was being held.

Annie was looking up passenger aircraft rental agencies in the telephone book when Cotton interrupted her.

"Hang on a minute," he said. "I did some work for a mid-sized corporation that's headquartered here in Washington. They investigate out-of-country areas that some of the bigger outfits are thinking of investing in. One of their agents was kidnapped by some greedy outlaws in Guatemala and held for ransom. My crew managed to rescue him. The company CEO said that if I ever needed a favor to just ask, and they have a neat jet that would work fine."

"How big is it?" Annie asked. It has to carry at least nine."

"It's a Challenger 604. It seats 9 plus two pilots and a flight attendant. It's really plush and should work just great to get us to Miami. Let me get on the phone and see what I can arrange."

"And I suppose you have a chopper on standby, too?" Annie said.

"Well, actually …" Cotton grinned at her from where he sat by a small table with a telephone and a tall glass of Coke at his elbow.

"I have a buddy who can fly dang near anything. He owns a Eurocopter EC 145. It's a great ship. Seats 9 to 11 passengers and the pilot. It's speedy and has a flying time of 3 and a half to 4 hours. It has access from both sides and good vision all around. I've used it before. Have to rent it though. He doesn't fly anybody anywhere for free."

"We can do that. Call him now and reserve the ship. Find out what he wants for a deposit, and I'll send it to him." Annie was all business. Auggie had given her access to his money, and she intended to use it to rescue him. Every penny would be accounted for.

By midday they had their transportation organized. The President of Otherworld Ventures had been delighted to lend Cotton their jet for at least the coming week. He spent ten minutes on the phone thanking him again for rescuing his brother-in-law from his kidnappers.

They paused to catch their breath and ordered lunch sent up from the nearby deli. "What's next? Annie asked. "What else needs to be done, and how soon can we leave?"

"I know how anxious you are, Annie," Cotton said, but my guys can't get here until sometime tomorrow. They'll be bringing the weapons I asked for from my cache, so they have to drive – can't get on a plane with that kind of hardware in hand. And it will take at least a couple of hours to familiarize you and the computer geeks with what you'll be packin'"

"I have my Colt Commander, and I've had advance weapons training. I'm a very good shot, even if I have to say it for myself. I have returned hostile fire and done so successfully." Annie had been reluctant to carry a weapon when she first came to D.P.D., but circumstances had changed her whole frame of reference. Now she knew the value of a reliable sidearm and the importance of using it well.

"I'm sure you have, Annie, and that's great, Cotton told her. Bring your pistol for sure, but I want you to have something more long range as well. I thought the PS 90 bullpup carbine might be right for you. It's light, ergonomic and very comfortable to carry and to use. It fires a 5.7 caliber round that turns 180 degrees when it strikes its target, so it's a real stopper, and it can be fired either single shot or semiautomatic. I have an unblocked 50 round magazine for it, but its top mounted. You will want to have a little time to get used to that."

"What about Shane Northman and Mark Henry?" Annie wondered if Cotton planned to arm the pair from Auggie's geek squad. "They did say they had some weapons familiarization."

"Yeah," Cotton hesitated for a minute. "I don't know how good their aim is, and I'm sure they've never been shot at before. I thought I'd give them something it's hard to miss with. I asked for two Benelli M4 shotguns. They are 12 gauge and can fire either shot or slugs. Range is about 40 yards, so they work well close in. I'll try the kids out on a range, and if their aim is good, they can load slugs which have a lot of stopping power. Otherwise, shot – not many men want to run into a load of shot. It's accurate and reliable in all sorts of weather."

Annie smiled at her companion. "You've put a lot of thought into this, Cotton. I appreciate it. I know how important it is to plan and be properly equipped, but with Auggie in danger, I just want to run as fast as I can to rescue him. He'd be furious with me; normally I know better." She flung out a hand in frustration.

"I know," Cotton said. He paused to take a long drink of his cola. "I've known Auggie for almost 8 years now. He was both my CO and my friend. In Special Forces the officers and enlisted are a lot closer than in other outfits. I was out by the time he was blinded, but I heard about it. I should have reached out to him then, but I had no idea what to say or do."

"He understands, Cotton. I've learned that at first many people react that way to a blind person. They want to help but are at a complete loss what to do. He says he was resentful and hard to live with in the beginning, and I can believe it. Inside he's tough and proud. But he's come to terms with it now, regained his independence and does important work better than anybody around. He was really tickled to reconnect with you over that Mexico mess."

"Me too," Cotton said. "Glad we got you out safe, and glad to have Auggie on my radar again. Like I told you, he gave me some important stuff to think about. I'm still sorta working through it."

"I'd be willing to bet that he told you freelance mercenary was not the smartest career choice?"

Cotton nodded. "You're right there. He said he could help me find something better, but I like the action. I don't want to sit behind a desk somewhere."

"Auggie has contacts with some of the big security outfits. There would still be plenty of opportunities to see action, but you'd have a good salary, insurance and some security, too. You should think about it."

"I am, Annie. I am." Cotton grinned at her. "But first we have to get Auggie back. Can you set up some time at a good range, so you and the kids can get familiar with your weapons?"

"I'll get right on it." Annie ate the last bite of her chicken salad, and folded up the trash to toss away. "We need to get busy again."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Auggie knew he was in big trouble. His arm was agony. He was hot, shaky and nauseous. He took the water they brought with his plate of breakfast scraps but pushed the food away. He drank in small slow sips and managed to get and keep it down. It wasn't enough to quench his thirst, however. As the day heated up, he was consumed with a burning need for water.

He was huddled in what shade his banana tree provided when they came for him in the early afternoon.

"Come here," one of his guards shouted from the gate. "Herr Mercer wants you."

Auggie tried to stand, but his head swam and his legs shook. "Sick," he said. "Need some help."

Mindful of what had happened to the last man who entered the cage alone with Auggie, the guard went for backup. When he returned, one man stood outside with his pistol drawn while the first man entered.

When he got a close look at Auggie's infected arm, flushed face and glazed eyes his anxiety eased. "You are sick," he said. "Doesn't matter. You are still wanted. Come."

Auggie held up his good hand, and the guard pulled him to his feet. He took a firm grip on the back of Auggie's pants with his right hand and pulled Auggie's left arm over his shoulders. Auggie was half carried and half dragged into the house. "Better hurry if you want anything from him," he said as he dumped Auggie into the chair and began to tie him. "He won't last long like this."

Ben Mercer pushed Jakob aside and confronted Auggie. "None of our contacts in northern Pakistan ever heard of a 'Red Horseman'. When did this supposed meeting happen and what else did you hear?" His words were rushed and angry.

"What day is it?" Auggie said. "Lost track somewhere."

"This is Wednesday, June 15th. Now, when was that meeting?"

"I've been here a dozen days then. Seems longer somehow," Auggie murmured.

"It's going to be eternity if you don't give me something!" Mercer snarled.

"Meeting… ." Auggie's voice trailed off.

Mercer slapped him hard, and Auggie shook his head. Blood dripped from his cut lip. "Meeting, mid-April sometime… 'bout 6 weeks ago. Plans to recruit a double agent… Red Horseman. No more. Didn't hear any more."

"Our people can't find anybody known as 'The Red Horseman.'"

One side of Auggie's mouth quirked up.

"God damn you!" Mercer's hands clamped around Auggie's throat. He ripped him up, chair and all, and shook him viciously. "You'll tell me something or I'll kill you!" He dropped Auggie back with a thud.

"Probably die first," Auggie barely croaked, and his head fell forward.

He could hear Jakob and Ben Mercer arguing somewhere across the room, but it was too hard to translate the rapid fire German. He caught words like 'tot' meaning 'dead' and 'einen Arzt holen' for 'get a doctor'. Eventually Mercer broke into English.

"I told you from the start that I had to return him without permanent damage… now look!"

"Ya," Jakob said, "you told me that, but when he was bitten, you would not let me care for it. You choke him until he can barely speak. You keep him hungry and thirsty and filthy in this heat. What do you expect?

"I expected you to extract something I could use to discredit him. You haven't gotten a single thing we could verify. It's been useless!"

"I do not work miracles. He has been very clever with his lies, and he bears torture well. "

The argument was escalating when Auggie heard a familiar step enter the room and James' voice spoke urgently. "Herr Mercer, there is an important satellite call for you. It is Herr Klaus. He says he must speak with you at once."

"Damn," Mercer growled. "Throw him back in the cage. If he dies, so be it."

Auggie was hauled back and literally tossed into the cage. The late afternoon sun blazed down through the humid air, and there was no water. Auggie crept into what shade he could find and fell into a semi-conscious daze. Confused, fragmented dreams of battle and fire, of being lost in complex computer circuits, and of Annie searching … searching for something haunted him.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Tuesday evening had been filled with the hundred and one things necessary to prepare for a mission that could get hot in a hurry. They had no idea what they would have to face. Stu had tried, but there was nothing on the D.P.D. grapevine about Ben Mercer or any interrogation of possible traitors.

Cotton and Annie made arrangements, bought supplies of food, clothing and emergency equipment. The last thing they did was rent a GMC Savana Passenger Van that seated 8 with plenty of cargo space. They would need it to haul everyone around.

Cotton's two ex-soldiers called from the outskirts of Washington about 10:00 p.m. They had driven non-stop since early morning and were exhausted. Annie gave them careful directions on how to reach the apartment building, and they arrived shortly before 11:00 p.m. Cotton met them downstairs and took them on to his hotel where Annie had arranged rooms for them. Annie put in calls to Stu, Shane Northman and Mark Henry. They agreed to meet early Wednesday morning.

Annie's sleep was restless and filled with disturbing dreams. Auggie needed her. She felt it in every fiber of her body with an aching urgency that was hard to endure. She was up before the sun.

Everybody managed breakfast on their own, and shortly after 8:00 a.m. Wednesday morning, Annie and Cotton picked up Stu, Shane and Mark in the rented van. The back held several heavy canvas bags of odd shapes. They drove west out of the city on Rt. 66 to a private range on what was once farmland near Oakton. They were led to an area with facilities for both close in and long range fire and assured they would be left in strict privacy.

Stu had brought his own weapons: a big Desert Eagle Magnum .44 handgun and his faithful old Winchester .30-30 deer rifle. Since he was familiar with the guns, Cotton agreed they would do for the mission.

"In fact," Cotton said, "I like the Desert Eagle. I carry the .50 caliber version myself."

"What about a long gun for you?" Annie asked.

"I generally roll with the LaRue OBR," he said.

"OBR?" Shane asked.

"Optimized Battle Rifle. It's an upgraded tactical version of the AR10. You can fire it single shot or semi-automatic as either a sniper or a battle rifle. I have the 20 round magazine with 7.62 rounds and a night-vision day/night combination scope. It's accurate and works well in all kinds of conditions."

They pulled out the weapons Cotton's men had brought from their heavy cases. There was the PS-90 Bullpup carbine for Annie. Cotton quickly showed Annie how to deal with the top loading clip and other special features of the lightweight weapon and left her to practice. He took the boys to another area of the range and let them try out the Benelli's. Neither had ever fired a gas operated shotgun before, so he took the time to explain the operation and had them eject and replace the 4+1 shot clip several times.

Cotton was a patient but strict teacher who emphasized safety and accuracy. Both young men proved to be fairly accurate with their aim. Shane wanted to try it with the large slug rounds for the mission. Mark, as their medic, decided to stick with shot.

After two hours of steady work, Cotton felt they were as good with the weapons as they were likely to get without a lot more time and training. While Annie paid the range owner, they gave their arms a quick cleaning and packed them back in the van.

They swung by Annie and Auggie's apartment to pick up the packs of supplies they had readied the night before, got two ice chests filled with water and fruit juice from the nearby deli, and picked up Cotton's two men from the hotel.

On the way to the airport, Cotton made them known to the group. Geoffrey James Charles, otherwise known as 'Limey', was a stocky, balding, florid Englishman with a cheerful, cheeky manner. He was ex-British Special Forces and specialized in close-in assault: blasting through doors, dodging around corners and the like.

Charles Wolfkiller was known as 'Hawk' for his Mohawk heritage. He was a big man, almost as tall as Cotton, but lean and rawhide tough – an all round fighter and excellent tracker.

By noon they were loaded into the luxurious corporate jet and the pilot was calling the tower for take-off clearance. They were an odd looking group who scattered through the luxurious aircraft with its blonde leather seats, comfy throw pillows and lap robes. Almost all of them wore sturdy camo pants with many pockets and web belts fitted with hooks for holsters, canteens and other attachments. Shirts were varied, but nobody wore anything bright or eye-catching. Annie had made her fair hair into a tight braid down her back that she could tuck up under a soft cap with a brim to shade her eyes.

The steward who came with the Otherworld Ventures plane raised a well-groomed eyebrow, but served them hearty ham sandwiches, fresh slaw and crunchy taro chips with an assortment of drinks. For those who still had the room, there were delicious molten chocolate cup cakes and ice cream.

In just under two hours they landed at Miami International and taxied to a private area. As they debarked, Annie handed the pilot two hundred dollar bills and asked him to keep his cell phone on. They might want to fly back to Washington on short notice. The steward got a hundred for his unquestioning service. The crew had been given strict instructions to wait in Miami for Cotton's team to return, no matter how long it took.

Loaded like pack mules with their equipment, they walked the short distance to a slightly shabby hanger where they found their new pilot and his sleek chopper.

Cotton introduced "Smilin' Jack' Jackman, who, not once in the time Annie spent in his company, ever cracked even a hint of a smile. He was a rangy, long-faced man with a huge handlebar mustache in rusty red and startling blue eyes. A deep scar creased the left side of his forehead and his hair was thin there. His greeting was polite but brief as he helped them stow their gear and find seats in his aircraft.

"Smilin' Jack spoke briefly with Cotton and then turned to Annie. "Miss Walker, I understand this is your expedition?"

"Yes," she told him. "Cotton says you're the best."

"I try, but we need to be clear. I fly; I don't fight. I will guard my chopper and will require one man to stay back and help with that job. I also require a ten thousand dollar deposit before we take off. Adjustments can be made upon our return. It depends on flight time and danger encountered. Cotton trusts you, so I'll take your check."

Annie dug in one of the deep pockets of her cargo pants and pulled out the check book Auggie had left for her. Her hand shook slightly as she wrote out the large amount required. She wasn't used to this sort of transaction, but it was worth any amount to get Auggie back safely. She signed and handed it over. The pilot whistled, and a boy of about 15 hurried over from a back corner of the hanger.

Jackman handed the lad the check and said only, "Give this to Mom." The boy's full head of rusty red hair and long features clearly proclaimed him Jackman's son. They shook hands quickly and Jackman turned back to Annie. "Get on board please, Miss Walker. We're ready to fly."

Annie scrambled into the second row of seats on the aircraft, the doors were slammed shut and the rotors run up.

Once they were in level flight and headed out to sea, Cotton set about organizing the operation. The heavy bags of weapons were opened and firearms handed out along with ammunition, knives and canteens. They fitted handguns and knives to holsters and attached them to their belts. Slings on the shoulder arms were adjusted to a comfortable fit, and the canteens were filled with fresh cold water from the ice chests.

"It's hot," Cotton said. "Everybody drink at least 12 ounces of water before we set down." Chilled bottles were handed around. Annie sipped at her bottle and looked out over the crystal blue of the water below them dotted with green islands and the colorful tile roofs of vacation homes. It seemed so peaceful. It was hard to imagine they could soon be fighting for their lives and Auggie's.

"Mark, I'd like you to stay back with Smilin' Jack here," Cotton nodded at their pilot, "and help him to guard the ship. If we lose control of it, we're skunked. Also, get your medical kit ready. Hope we won't need it, but best to have it if we do."

Annie looked at the handsome, young, African-American medic and gave him an encouraging smile. When he joined Auggie's group of geeks to learn all he could about computerized medicine, something like this was probably the last thing in the world he expected, but he was here and even managed to grin back at her and give a thumbs up.

The group grew quiet and everyone strained to see as they approached the coordinates of the island they sought. A swath of white beach appeared with a rambling house perched above it encircled by jungle-like greenery. A mangrove swamp was the main feature of the other side. Just a tiny spot of land in a vast sea.

They had begun their descent when another, smaller chopper suddenly sprang up from the island. They watched wide-eyed as it swerved away from them. Without warning a side door of ship slammed open. A man braced just inside. He swung up a heavy black weapon and opened full automatic fire on them.

Smilin' Jack was battle trained and tested. He swung them sharply down and away from the stream of bullets. There was one sharp crack from somewhere about their craft. Cotton opened his door, swung up his OBR and returned fire. A line of bullet holes stitched across the tail of the departing helicopter.

The pilot of the smaller ship poured full power to his rotors, and they were soon out of range.

"Let 'em go," Cotton said. "Get us on the ground!"

They began to drop down out of the sky. "Anybody hurt; is everything secure?" Cotton shouted.

Annie looked around. Everyone seemed unhurt if shaken. She was very glad they had all been strapped securely in their seats when the maneuvering began. Some of their baggage was piled against one wall where it had slid, but that was soon redistributed.

"Everybody look alive!" Cotton shouted as they hovered just a few yards above the ground. "Hawk to the front; Limey to the back." The three men were out and moving before they were fully down. Annie quickly followed with her PS-90 Bullpup armed and ready to fire.

As soon as the engine shut down, Smilin' Jack was out with his Steyr Aug assault rifle in hand. Stu, Shane Northman and Mark Henry climbed out behind them.

"Shit," the pilot said. One of those shots cracked the end off of my left skid. Have to be replaced." He glanced at Annie. "But we're still good to go."

Cotton and his men circled the ship and checked the surrounding growth with practiced efficiency and coordination. For the moment all seemed safe and quiet.

"Okay, take a deep breath," Cotton said. "Somebody got out of here, but we don't know who or what's left, so stay alert."

Suddenly Annie realized she knew exactly who had abandoned ship. Ben Mercer had been the man firing at them from the departing chopper. Dear God! Could he have taken Auggie with him?

They organized for an approach to the house. Cotton took point with Annie right behind him. Hawk moved out to the left and Limey to the right. Shane followed Annie with Stu watching their rear. They had scarcely advanced a hundred yards down a faint, sandy path before they saw a white tee shirt tied to a branch being waved to and fro before them.

Other than the hand that held the branch the rest was concealed behind a stout tree. Cotton put his hand back and said to Annie, "Wait."

Anger flashed through her like a gasoline fire. She was trained and experienced. She had done little but wait for days. Damn them all, she wanted to find Auggie! She almost pushed Cotton aside and stormed down the path toward the flag waver when better sense took over.

Cotton was from a small island of culture where a 'good' woman was still sheltered and protected. It was his natural instinct to step between her and trouble, and his help had been invaluable. She let out a breath that she seemed to have held for hours and settled into a semi-crouch.

"Throw out any arms and show yourself!" Cotton shouted. "Come out with your hands empty and up, and we won't shoot."

A pistol and a big knife were tossed out into the middle of the path. "I surrender. I'm friend to Auggie. I want to help." The accent was German.

"Come on out."

James stepped from behind the tree with his hands held high above his head and a grin on his face. "Auggie said you would come. He told me, 'Surrender and ask for san… sanctuary? Is that right?"

"That's right. Keep your hands up and approach slowly."

Annie had moved up beside Cotton. "You know Auggie? Is he here? Is he all right?"

James moved slowly toward them. "Yes. Know him. Is here. He is soldier like me. Try to help, but can't do much. They watch me." He stopped in front of Cotton with his hands still up.

"Annie, keep your gun on him while I search. Don't be taken in." Cotton slung his rifle and began to pat James down thoroughly.

Annie's German was good and she switched to it. "Tell me about Auggie?" she said. "Is he hurt?"

"Ja," James told her. "They did many bad things to him that hurt him very much, but he was brave. I was German KSK; he was your American Special Forces. We were both soldiers, both in Afghanistan. What they did was wrong. They starved him too, and gave him dirty water. I tried to bring better. Then he ran and they turned the dogs out on him. He was bitten and got very sick. I will take you to him."

"He's clean," Cotton said. "What's he saying?" He gestured for James to lower his hands.

Annie's face had gone white. "He says Auggie's here and has been tortured. Apparently he broke out and they hunted him with dogs. He was bitten and is now very ill. This man claims to be ex-German Kommando Spezialkrafte. He recognized Auggie as a fellow soldier and tried to help him, but couldn't do much. He wants to take us to him. We have to hurry!"

"Easy, Annie," Stu cautioned. "It could be a trap."

"My thought exactly," Cotton added. "We have to be careful."

"Then let's be careful damned fast." Annie started to push ahead.

"No, Fräulein," James switched back to English. "You must take care. There are three men left who will fight. They have set up an ambush near the house to trap you. Herr Mercer received a call from Herr Klaus. He was very upset when he came back. He… he.." James demonstrated by clasping his hands around an invisible throat and shaking them.

"Choked," Annie said.

"Ja, he choked Auggie. Then he took Jakob, and they ran to the helicopter. He said to wait; if people came he told us to fight. I got away when they went for the guns."

Guided by James, they approached the house quietly and with caution. He pointed out the locations of Mercer's remaining men. They had set up to catch them in a three point crossfire as they approached. Cotton and Annie took the man on the far left near the rear corner of the house. Hawk and Shane went to the far right. Limey and Stu started first in order to circle wide and come in behind the center ambusher. James would act as their guide through the rows of Ti and coconut plants.

They synchronized their watches and agreed everyone should be in position within 20 minutes. The light would be fading by then as well.

Annie would have killed for grenades and a launcher. They could take out all three positions in seconds and go to Auggie. The wait was pure agony. He was alive; he was hurt; he needed her. She placed each foot with care as she and Cotton circled wide through the guavas and slash pine. They stopped when they caught a glimpse of their quarry among the gathering shadows under the corner of the roof overhang.

Annie realized that every muscle was tight with tension. She deliberately breathed out slowly and let her shoulders relax and loosen. She was a good shot with long gun or short, but she preferred her Colt Commander. She shifted the PS-90 until it was slung just at her waist and pulled the Colt from its holster.

They inched closer until Cotton signaled ready. He stepped forward and in a strong, command voice demanded, "Throw down your gun and get on the ground. You're surrounded."

The man, a slender fellow of about Annie's height, whirled toward Cotton with his weapon already up. Annie fired. It was a quick, double tap that took him squarely in the center of his chest. As he staggered back, she put a third shot into his left temple. He collapsed, already dead and barely twitching.

"Damn," Cotton said in a pleasant, conversational tone, "that's some fine shootin' Miss Walker. I must tell Auggie never to piss you off." He kicked the gun away from the man's dead hand and checked the body. Good habits he always observed even when he was sure the enemy wasn't going to start shooting again.

Shouts from the other two positions told them that they now had control of the situation on the island. Some weeks later, Annie would learn that she had shot the man known as Herman. He was the one Auggie had overpowered and left tied in the cage when he escaped. Hawk and Shane had taken down Max – one of the two who had taken a smoke break under Auggie's kapok tree. Limey and Stu's man was Lars – one of Auggie's two original captors along with James.

When all was quiet, the kitchen screen opened a bit and a white towel on the end of a broom was extended. It proved to be the camp's cook. He was a tiny Chinese man who spoke very little English, and apparently had never understood what was going on beyond his kitchen.

Annie cleared the house along with Stu, while Cotton and his men tied their captives tightly. There was no sign of Auggie in the house, but it was clear where he had been tortured. Jakob had left his tools behind, and there were splatters of blood and other fluids on the floor. Annie raced outside to James.

"Where is he? Where is Auggie? He's not here; not in the house. Take me to him!"

"Komm mit mir," he said. "Come with me. I show you."

Annie set off behind James. Cotton and Stu followed. "Guard these guys, we'll be back," Cotton told his men.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The light was going as they approached the cage. The last rays lay long across its dirt floor and painted prison stripes across the figure that was huddled against the trunk of the ragged banana inside. "Auggie?" Annie said in a whisper that trembled. "Auggie?" There was no response.

"Let me go first, Annie," Cotton said gently. They hadn't bothered to lock the cage when they tossed Auggie in for the last time. They had just slammed the door and hurried to set up their ambush. "Hold on to her, Stu, while I check." Cotton pulled the door open and stepped inside. _'Please, God, let him be alive.' _It was something Cotton had prayed more than once. Often the answer had been '_No.' _Still he prayed.

He squatted beside the still form and pressed two fingers just under the notch in the jawbone where the big artery ran. There was a pulse, not strong, but steady and there.

"He's alive."

Annie gasped in relief and tried to pull away from Stu.

"Wait, Annie," Cotton said. I want to check for breaks. Then I'll bring him out to you."

Cotton ran broad, powerful hands over Auggie's legs. His feet were in bad shape covered in cuts and bruises, but nothing seemed broken. There was little beyond skin over his ribs, but they were all whole as was his left arm and shoulder. Auggie had his right arm guarded between his body and the tree trunk. When Cotton lifted it, there was a grunt of pain and a hoarse "No!"

"It's alright, Auggie. It's Cotton. "We've come to get you; you're safe now. Come on, let ol' Cotton see that arm, so we can help you." It was a calm, cool shower of words that seemed to help.

"Cotton?" Auggie's voice was so broken Cotton could barely understand him.

"Yep, it's Cotton. Annie's here too and your buddy Stu. We came for you. You knew we wouldn't leave you. No man left behind, Augs, nobody."

Auggie relaxed and let Cotton examine his arm. It didn't seem to be broken, but it was a mass of swollen, infected, ugly bites and bruises.

Cotton snapped his first aid kit off his belt. "I'm gonna just ease this into a sling, buddy, so we can move you without it hurtin' too bad. You'll have help real soon."

Cotton looked outside the cage. Annie was frozen in Stu's grasp. A look of desperate longing and fear only enhanced the beauty of her face and magnificent eyes. His men, with the prisoners in tow, and Shane, with his Benelli still ready for use, had joined them.

"Shane," Cotton called, "run to the chopper and tell them the fight's over. Tell Jack to warm up the turbine; we've got an injured man we need to get back in a hurry. Spread a blanket in the ship so we can lay him down when we get there. Hurry!" With one horrified glance back, Shane sprinted away.

Cotton secured the sling from his kit around Auggie's neck and eased his arm into it. Then he simply gathered him up in his arms and slid sideways out of the cage. Annie was beside him instantly.

"Walk with me and talk to him, Annie. No matter how careful I am, it's going to hurt. Try to distract him if you can get through." Cotton pointed at Hawk with a jerk of his head. "Put those two bastards and the little Chinaman in the cage. Lock 'em up. Somebody else can sort them out."

"I'll stay," Stu said. He had a satellite phone out. "I'm calling in our cleanup crew. There may be valuable intelligence information still here if they took off as fast as it looks like they did. There's a lot I don't understand about this, and I intend to find out all I can. I'll stand guard on the prisoners tonight. There'll be a ship and some experts here by morning. I'll see you guys later. And, by the way, you were all great. It was an honor to be along." He was already dialing as they walked away toward the helicopter.

The rotors were swinging slowly when they arrived. Hawk and Limey made quick work of stowing the guns and other equipment while Cotton knelt to put Auggie down on the blanket Shane had ready.

Annie flung herself down on the deck beside Auggie and pulled his head into her lap, cradling it as she bent close to shelter him from the blasts of air that rushed through the chopper as they lifted. Her hair had come undone from its braid and hung around his face like a curtain.

He was enveloped in Annie's scent; strands of silken hair brushed across his face. Her delicate fingers fluttered across his body, almost afraid to touch him anywhere.

Under the roar of the rotors she whispered, "Oh, God, Auggie, hang on, hang on. I love you so much, sweetheart.

The cream of her voice flowed through him, coated the pain of the past days and soothed it. This was no fever dream. Annie had found him. He had given her the tools, and his trust, and she had done it. He was safe.

"Please, please don't die; don't leave me. I need you. I love you." Her tears dripped unnoticed, to cut trails through the dirt and dried blood on his face.

She always forgot how sharp his hearing was. Her plea pulled him back from a slow slide into the bliss of unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered open for a moment. "Won't die," he murmured. "Promise. Never leave you, Annie."

Someone tugged at her, shouted in her ear. She held on to Auggie with all her strength. Finally a voice broke through.

"Ma'am, ma'am, Miss Annie! Let me at him. Please! He needs my help!"

She looked up. It was one of Auggie's geek squad, the oldest one. Suddenly she remembered; he was an EMT. He could help Auggie.

Reluctantly she moved aside a little. Mark dropped down beside her and pulled his kit close. He shook out a clean blanket and spread it over Auggie. "I need to find a vein and get an IV running," he shouted in her ear. "We have to get some fluids into him. You can help." He searched rapidly, rejecting one spot after the other. "He's so badly dehydrated."

Mark slapped the back of the wrist on Auggie's good arm and a blue vein finally popped. He ripped open an alcohol wipe and scrubbed it hard. "Stretch the skin tight over the vein," he instructed Annie, "while I try to get in."

She stretched the feverish skin over the vein and tried to keep it centered as he slid in a butterfly needle, probed once … twice and got a show of blood. "Thank God, thank God," Mark Henry whispered as he swiftly taped everything down, hooked up a bottle of IV fluids and got it running. "Hold this up," he told Cotton, who stood over them ready to help in any way he could. Cotton gripped an overhead brace in the rocking ship with one hand and held the bottle aloft with the other. Annie got the feeling it wasn't the first time he'd done something like that.

"This vein won't hold up too long," Mark told the hovering group. "But it will work for now. When we get him to a hospital, they'll probably make a cut down into a major vein. Meanwhile, let me see what I can do with his arm."

Annie watched as Mark unfolded a sterile bandage, gently eased the arm from its improvised sling and rested it on the clean gauze. She had to look away and breathe slowly for a minute. It was swollen almost double. A mass of rips and puncture marks, pale in some spots and fiery red in others, covered it. She could feel the heat from the infection against her own skin.

"Jesus!" Mark breathed. "He needs a surgeon."

"We don't have one of those at hand." Cotton's voice was hard and dry. "You're the medic; do what you can. Clean it up; scrub it with antiseptic, slather it in whatever antibiotic you've got and wrap it. I don't want him to wake up and start groping at it."

Mark did as Cotton directed, placed Auggie's bandaged arm in a clean sling and let Annie gather him back into her lap.

She kissed him anywhere she thought it wouldn't hurt and held him as close as she dared. "Stay with me, Auggie," she said over and over. Stay with me. You'll have help soon."

"Look at that," Mark said to Cotton. He had managed to get a blood pressure cuff onto Auggie. "His blood pressure was out the roof when we got him here. Since she started talking to him, it's settled down into an almost normal range. Do you think he can hear her?"

"I've seen stranger things," Cotton said. "Why do you think we're here? She threw the rule book out the window and went after him like a bloody tigress. If he can hear anyone now, it'll be her."

Mark stood and used gauze to rig a tie to the overhead brace for the IV bottle. Cotton steadied it until he was certain it was secure.

Mark touched his arm and asked, "Is he going into the hospital in Miami?"

"No," Cotton said. "He can't. He has to hold on until we get to The Farm."

"Is it near Washington?"

"They don't give out maps to that place, but D.C.'s closer than Miami. Why?"

"Can you get some supplies brought to the plane in Miami?" Mark asked.

"Probably," Cotton said. "What do you need?"

"I could use another half-dozen bottles of Ringer's, some broad spectrum IV antibiotics, a stretcher, clean sheets and blankets, and a lot of ice. We need to get his fever down as soon as we can."

"Let me get on the horn, and I'll see what I can do." Cotton moved into the co-pilot's seat and picked up the mike.

The rest of the flight into Miami was quiet. Mark stayed close by Annie and Auggie, while Shane stayed out of the way in the back of the chopper. Cotton's two men stowed their gear, broke out snacks and beer from the cooler and kicked back.

The chopper set down in a remote area of Miami International Airport to find their private jet waiting. While they were making the transfer, an unmarked panel truck pulled up and a fire plug of a man jumped out. He had cauliflower ears and a much broken nose.

Cotton went to meet him, hand outstretched. "Howdy, Blackie. Good to see you again, man. Were you able to help us out with them things?"

"Got em all, good buddy. Since you said they were for a friend, it's all good stuff – straight out of a medical supply warehouse. Well, all 'cept the antibiotics. I tell you, the controls on them dang things are so tight now… " Blackie shook his head in disgust.

"Anyway, these are fresh and safe – came straight off an EMT's ambulance. He's a good kid, wouldn't never sell 'cept his little girl's sick with som'thin' the damn insurance companies won't cover, and he needs money bad. 'Fraid the price is pretty steep."

"What's the damage?" Cotton asked.

Blackie handed him a carefully printed and itemized bill. Cotton glanced at it and said, "Hold on a minute."

He caught up with Annie as she was about to follow his men, who were carrying Auggie on the newly acquired stretcher onto the plane.

"Can you write a check for these medical supplies? The price is a little steep, but it's all good stuff, and your corpsman says he needs them."

"I can cover whatever we need," Annie said. "Auggie made sure of that."

"Good." Cotton handed her the bill. "Make it out to 'Blackie's Sweets' and add a 25% supplier's fee."

"Blackie's Sweets?" Annie glanced at the case of Lactated Ringer's Solution being loaded onto the plane and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, he runs a company that supplies candy to vending machines. This is just a small sideline for a few old buddies. Be glad we have him and be generous."

Annie fished out the checkbook Auggie's banker had given her and got busy. With one check finished, she looked at Smilin' Jack and raised an eyebrow in question. "You go on with your man, Miss Walker," he told her. I've got your address. I'll send a final accounting in a few days. Ten minutes later they were in the air.

The flight from Miami to Dulles Airport was the longest of Annie's life in many way's and in others, the shortest. They fought hard to bring down the fever that raged through Auggie's body with applications of ice and cool water. Mark continued to pour fluids and antibiotics into his mentor's system as fast as he dared.

Auggie roused just as they set down, and he beckoned Cotton to his side.

The big ex-soldier squatted by his one-time commanding officer and said, "Howdy, Cap'n, good to have you back with us."

Auggie didn't have time or voice to waste. Each word was forced from strained and bruised vocal cords. "Cotton, don't leave Washington. Guard Annie. He's still out there. Somebody tipped him you were coming. All fees, expenses – on me." He broke off, coughing hard.

When Cotton began to rise, Auggie caught his arm. "Thanks. Owe you another one. Come see me soon as they let you."

"Right, gottcha. You get well; I'll be here." Annie handed him the van keys; Cotton and his men shouldered the equipment and headed for the terminal.

Annie gave Mark and Shane money for the taxi ride back to their homes, thanked them once more, and reminded them again not to talk about the events they had just taken part in.

When they had gone, Annie climbed into the waiting military ambulance. She settled beside an already sedated Auggie and dozed as they drove south and east into the night toward a secure medical facility. Once there, she knew she faced a barrage of questions. At the moment, she didn't much care. She had Auggie back, and that was all that mattered.

_Part Two, the End_

_Your reviews, comments and constructive criticism are always most welcome. Hearing from you, dear readers, is what makes it all worthwhile. I love seeing your reviews and try to respond to them all._

_Part three of this trilogy, "Blind Justice" will be available soon. _


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